Retribution to Redemption
by JJ Campbell
Summary: In a war-torn world, a woman sets herself on a blazing path of retribution; but when a curse malfunctions, she is placed on a journey where she ultimately finds her redemption. TIME-TURNER. AU. Eventual Hermione x Sirius pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes. There are a few references to suicide in the beginning chapters, but I tried to keep them as vague as possible.

 **A/N:** This story starts out post-war (Voldie wins) but there will be a time turner involved so be prepared for that. Also, as mentioned in the **Warnings** , there is mention of suicide (as well as thoughts) included in this story. I have tried to keep it as vague as possible to hopefully keep everyone comfortable, but everyone has a different opinion on subtle, yeah? Just know it is not my intention to upset you.

* * *

She awoke gasping for air, her hand covering the pulsing scar that touched her collar bone and disappeared beneath the top of her ragged pajama shirt. Panting, she threw the blankets off her body, the cool air hitting the sweat she had accumulated, causing her to shiver. She ran a hand through her matted hair, slim fingers getting trapped within its confines, as she attempted to regulate her breathing. It took several minutes, but she finally managed. Her body exhausted from whatever she had just witnessed: dream, nightmare, night-terror, whatever worked.

She had been having the same repetitive dream for the past two weeks now, always the same. Blurs of faces, laughter, and warmth. Then it was dark, pain, and the overwhelming stench of putrid death before she was consumed by darkness. She shuddered. She hadn't felt that kind of fear since she was tortured in the Malfoy Manor, bleeding and on the brink of death when her friends had rescued her. She remembered waking up two weeks later, weak and shaking with the after-effects of multiple _Cruciatus_ curses. Lucky her. Once again she shivered.

Climbing out of her makeshift cot, warm toffee colored eyes glanced towards a lone picture frame. It sat on the broken cement window sill, alone in the faint moonbeams that broke through the grime-stained windows. Inside stood three teenagers, smiling and laughing, by a lake she knew quite well. The tallest among them stood on the left with brilliant red hair, his fringe hanging in front of his crystal blue eyes. Her gaze flicked to the far right where a boy with the craziest hair she had ever seen and sharp emerald eyes hidden behind round-framed glasses stood smiling up at her. They each had an arm wrapped around a petite brunette who giggled and shook her head at the boys' antics as they pranced around her. She smiled forlornly down at the young girl portrayed in the moving photograph. It was difficult for her to remember what happiness felt like nowadays. She certainly knew what oppressive misery felt like.

With a heavy sigh breaking through her chapped lips, she let a finger trail over each of the boys' face. "I miss you guys so, so much." She whispered, the familiar burn of tears stinging her eyes. "I wish you were here with me…" a bitter laugh escaped. "Well, maybe not, considering the world has fallen to utter shite. I hope you've both found peace, that you're with your families and our friends…I can only await the day when I am able to join you both again. I'm sure there's no one keeping you out of trouble up there, hmm? Bless your mothers' soul." She smiled as the two boys winked at her. "I had that dream again. To be honest it's buggering the ever loving shite out of me. I have no idea what it means." She sighed and ran a hand down her face, "They feel familiar…like memories of some sort, but different. It's like I'm reliving our past, but not how it really happened. I don't know. I guess everything happens for a reason, yeah?" She paused in thought, lips pursed. "Do you think I'm still here for a reason? I don't see for what. It's not like I was any good to you guys. _Smartest Witch of the Age_." She snorted, "What bollocks."

She pulled the broken picture frame from where it sat and brought it closer for inspection. "I know I say this every day, and it's not like you can actually respond, but I'm sorry I couldn't have been more help. I would have given my life to save the both of you, you know? At least then you would have each other, yeah? You wouldn't be alone, like me…always alone." Another bitter laugh escaped as she replaced the frame back on the sill. "Yeah…"

Shaking her head she stumbled over to the bathroom and turned the makeshift shower stream on. When she had first found this hideout the bathroom had been so utterly disgusting, bile had burned her throat. Mold, dirt, and rust had caked the floor and walls of the shower, some unknown substance – all she knew was that it had to go – had been clogged in the drain – she was positive whatever it had been had still been moving. The sink that stood adjacent was broken, but the water pipes still worked so she made do. After spending a good four hours using spell after spell she figured it was good enough to prohibit her from infecting herself with some new form of Plague.

After removing her sweat-soaked pajamas, she stepped under the blistering heat, allowing it to loosen her tense muscles. Carefully, she leaned her forehead against the cool tile and closed her eyes. Her tears mixed with the water as she began to remember the events that followed after the war had been lost. The Order had been defeated nearly two, no three, years ago. She was the last one standing and had warrants out for her capture on every available surface in both wizarding and muggle London. Apparently she was the victim of a psychotic break and if seen, local authorities were to be notified immediately – not unlike how they handled Sirius' infamous escape from Azkaban. Highly dangerous, they said. She sniffed. _Indeed_. One would think they'd come up with something a bit more original. The tossers.

She didn't know how long she stood under the water for. Her thoughts were lost in the past. Images of Harry, her best friend – her brother, being slain by Voldemort during the Final Battle at their beloved Hogwarts. Ron and his family being publically executed outside the fallen Ministry in a makeshift gallows – Voldemort had thought it a fitting punishment as they so aligned themselves with both the Muggles and Muggleborn. Her Professors being magically pinned into a mock pose of the crucifix on the outer stone walls. McGonagall being the hardest for her to see in such a ravaged state. Remus, Tonks, and their darling son Teddy had been captured four months later by none other than Fenrir Greyback, his Alpha. It was upon the next full moon, that Remus was locked in a room with his two beloveds. Needless to say, Remus took his own life the next morning, but only after Fenrir Greyback was no longer amongst the living. More and more her thoughts began to descend into a downward spiral. Before long, she found herself sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest.

She shook her head, willing the tragic images to disappear, but no matter how hard she tried, they remained to haunt her. Remind her of her failure to protect those she loved. One goddamn horcrux! That's all they had needed! One missed horcrux and the entire world fell to hell. All because she was too _stupid_ to realize the snake-faced bastard would catch onto their schemes and create a new one just before the Final Battle took place. For months after she had searched for the blasted thing. Researched countless volumes – dark, grey, and light – for any spell, charm, or curse that might aid in the search. To no avail. She had failed and because of that her entire life was down the theoretical fucking drain. All of her friends were dead. All of her Professors were dead. Even her parents did not escape notice from the Death Eaters in Australia. She knew she had Snape to thank for that. The bloody traitor. There was no _good_ in that greasy dungeon bat as so many Order members declared. She, like a fool, had always stuck up for the often-times malicious man no matter that he considered her an insufferable know-it-all. No, there was only self-interest in that vile man. If ever she met face to face with him again, she would not hesitate to _Sectumsempra_ his arse to kingdom come.

She groaned as she slammed her head back into the tile. Sighing, she stared up at the ceiling and decided to focus on her reoccurring dream. What the hell did it mean? Why was she having this dream now of all times? She bristled internally at having such a profound lack of knowledge as of late. Gods, there were days she wished Dumbledore was still among the living. He had answers to everything it seemed. How he did was questionable, his methods even more so, but nevertheless he would have been an absolute godsend. Fucking Snape. She really would kill the bastard if she ever saw him again. It was his fault, all of this. He was the reason she didn't have her old Headmaster here to throw theories off of or have a simple, enjoyable cup of tea with to prevent her from going backarsed crazy.

Deciding enough was enough, she retreated from the cooling water and toweled herself off. _Stop the pity party. This isn't you talking, it's the bloody survivor's guilt. Pull yourself together!_

She grumbled at her internal little pep talk. As if any of that was worth it anymore. Her eyes slowly found the small knife she always kept on the sink counter. Her fingers gently tracing over the smooth, cold metal. There were days she would grip the knife in shaking hands, her sorrow completely taking over to where she wished she could just end it all. To let go. She had no reason not to. It's not like the bastards out there wouldn't take joy in the fact – eventually finding her decaying corpse. It'd be relatively painless if she had the balls to do it. Other days, however, she felt positively repulsed with herself for even entertaining the idea. What would her friends and family think? Nothing positive she was sure. That knife represented weakness. Her weakness. She could not afford to be weak, especially with how things were today. So, no, she refused the thought of ending her own life. She let the blade remain there to remind her that if she was going to die, she was going to bloody well die taking as many Death Eater scum with her as possible.

No, she would not, _could not_ , give up.

Hermione Granger would have her retribution.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes. There are a few references to suicide in the beginning chapters, but I tried to keep them as vague as possible.

 **A/N:** With the research I'm conducting for this story I'm positive I'll find the FBI on my doorstep tomorrow. LOL!

* * *

With a flick of her wand, her chestnut curls were dry. Unfortunately, she had never found a spell or potion that could quite contain the frizz she was so known for – without spending endless hours – but it did dampen it a tad. Thankfully it no longer resembled some horribly maltreated dog and, instead, looked more like a wild, rampaging bush with slightly smoother curls that tumbled down to the middle of her back in no organized fashion. Yes, she knew she needed a haircut, but when was one to find the time during her ongoing fight for survival?

Once she had tamed the beast, she stared at herself in the remaining shards of the shattered mirror. Through bits of graffiti, she could see that her eyes, heavy from sleep deprivation and malnutrition, were framed with nearly purple bags. She had lost nearly two stone since the Final Battle, with having to ration and whatnot, and it especially showed in her face – she was pretty sure her cheek bones could cut diamonds at this point. She looked gaunt, sickly…dead. It was more than just a bit alarming, hence why she rarely looked at her reflection anymore. She was simply the shadow of the girl – the woman – she had once been.

As she tossed the towel to the floor, she traced her various scars with an index finger. The one that pained her this morning was slightly flushed, and continued to pulse every now and again. She had received this abominable beauty when the Order's last remaining hideout had been discovered. She and her remaining comrades – Luna and Neville – had tried fleeing their attackers, each disapparating to different areas. Hermione had been hit with a slicing curse that had torn open her chest from her collar bone down to the tip of her right breast just as she disappeared.

The minimal healing, and lack of dittany, had caused the wound to fester. When she was able to finally heal it properly, it was three days later. The skin surrounding the wound had blackened, yellow pustules forming along the seam – and the _stench_. Now, Hermione was never one to consider herself the squeamish sort; but, Gods, that had been absolutely _disgusting._ The white mark now remained as a hideous reminder – not that she cared very much, as she wasn't one to overly worry about vanity.

As she waited in their appointed meeting spot – two days, seventeen hours, and forty-three minutes to be exact – Hermione had begun to worry for her friends. It was as she was gathering her things – tears in her eyes – prepared to leave for another location that Neville had shown up. His clothes were practically shreds dangling from his too-thin frame and his thigh was bleeding profusely from some sort of cursed wound. She did what she could to heal him, being able to do more for him due to her _slightly_ relieved stress levels, as they waited for their remaining friend – their lover. _Unfortunately_ , they were to find out the next morning that Luna would never show. Voldemort had captured her. Just like everyone else Hermione ever crossed paths with.

Clearing her throat from the rock that seemed to be lodged within, she continued her self-exploration down to her stomach and traced the gash that began under her left breast and trailed down to the start of her right hip. Fucking Dolohov. She made sure that bastard died screaming for Merlin during the Final Battle; and if she was completely honest with herself, she enjoyed the rush of adrenaline that had filled her as she watched the last ounce of blood leave his shriveled corpse. She knew, subconsciously, that was probably a very concerning reaction to have after killing someone – especially with a background such as hers – but she couldn't find a bit of energy in her to care. He was only the beginning of her _very_ long list of people who would eventually die by her hand – well, wand – she wasn't physically superior by any means.

Hermione then stared down at her left forearm. Across her thin, pale skin were sunken red-purple letters that had been carved into her by a cursed blade: MUDBLOOD. _Yeah, well, who's here to have the last laugh you fucking psychotic bint_? Merlin, she had been _absolutely_ _high_ on joy when she witnessed the one and only, Molly Weasley, curse the bitch right during the Final Battle. Never before had she seen such ruthlessness in the woman – nagging everyone until their ears bled, yes – but never would she have guessed that such a bloodthirsty harpy survived in such an obsessively happy woman.

Hermione knew she was fortunate to have survived such a bloody war with only three major scars – well, four if you counted the very thin, faint white line that decorated her throat like some sort of dainty necklace. She had other, much more minor scrapes and burns all over her body. Each from skirmishes throughout the years, but she knew she deserved those. They were marks of her carelessness. Of those times when she had let her guard down one time too many. She was no longer that girl. That girl who tried to play by the rules and refused to use whatever means necessary. No. That girl had died the moment she had watched her best friend take his last breath in that damned court yard three years ago.

Just as she turned to leave the bathroom, her eyes caught a brief glimpse of a colorful tail wrapping around her left hip – the image, not unlike hers had been moments ago, was fractured, glinting back at her in multiple pieces. She smiled. Before her rather unattractive mug shot had been posted everywhere, Hermione had made the decision, as both a dedication and a fuck you to the Fates for giving her such a shite path in life, to have images that reflected her loved ones permanently painted on her back by a muggle tattoo artist. She mentally validated this reasoning – of course the _old_ Hermione fought against the idea – by telling herself that if her family couldn't be with her physically, then at least she would always carry a bit of their memory with her. She tried to convince herself that she was never truly alone, but the idea of it never seemed to stick. She knew Sirius would be ecstatic over these new developments, wanting to compare, and glad that she had finally removed the broomstick from her arse.

Sighing, she walked back into her ramshackle bedroom, stepping over fallen bits of brick and cement, and pulled on her overused pair of jeans and a bulky Chudley Cannons sweatshirt she had uncovered in Ron's belongings. She slipped on her trainers – socks were forgone as the last pair she owned practically crumbled to dust when she last attempted to wear them – and held her wand tight in her hand. She approached the door, grabbing Harry's invisibility cloak, and began to unravel the wards she ensured were set every day. Once done, she grabbed the weathered brass knob and turned, the door creaking on its rusted hinges. A small grimace tugged at the corner of her lips as the rather loud sound in the all-consuming silence echoed around her. Sending out a quick _Homenum Revelio,_ and detecting no cause for concern,she cast a disillusionment spell on herself and made her escape.

As she descended the unstable stairways of the abandoned apartment building, her mind skipped over random topics before ultimately arriving back at the blasted horcrux problem. She had lost all hope of ever discovering what and where the last horcrux was. There were simply too many hurdles to jump to even consider the possibility of retrieving it. Besides, with the remaining muggleborn witches and wizards practically on the endangered species list, leaving only the purebloods and wealthier halfbloods, there really was no need for her to find the damnable object. The people of Wizarding Britain _wanted_ this psychotic sociopath in charge. If that's how they wanted it, well, Hermione was one-hundred percent willing to tell them to go fuck themselves. Not that she would, because hell, she'd have ten wands pointed in her face if they even caught a whiff of her; and she had already decided she was not about to die from stupidity.

No, Wizarding Britain – well, wizarding everywhere – was lost now. There would be no saving it. They didn't want to be saved. Hermione sneered as she pictured the Malfoys practically salivating over the control they were allowed to exert. Especially when it came to their so-called mudblood slaves in the entertainment houses. _Fucking barbarians_. Although, they were not so biased as to prohibit other _less favorable_ people, in the eyes of Voldemort, to be sentenced to whoring themselves out to Death Eaters. No, she had witnessed one of her best friends, Luna, be repeatedly beaten and ravaged until she had finally broken. Her friend, with the hair that rivaled the very moon and eyes that shown with such pure innocence, had escaped her _room_ and thrown herself off the roof. No one survives a swan dive off the tenth floor. _No one_. Neville had, of course, been devastated. Hermione tried her utmost best to mend the pieces of his heart back together; but like every other time she tried to help someone, she failed. Neville followed Luna to the grave no more than seventeen days afterward by taking a muggle gun and pulling the trigger.

There were so many people she had failed in this life: her parents, Harry, Ron and his family, her Professors, Remus and his family, Luna and Neville, the _entire fucking world_. Sweet Merlin. Tears began to sting her eyes once more, but she brushed them away with a sharp flick of her fingers. Blinking her eyes furiously, she tried to keep the remainder from falling; and as her vision cleared, her heart nearly jumped into her throat. Not ten feet away from the entrance to her hideout stood three Death Eaters, all dressed in those ghastly black robes and silver masks. Sucking in a sharp breath, she crouched at the landing and plastered herself against the wall.

"Yeah, mate, I guarantee you magic has been used somewhere around here."

"What was the spell?"

There was silence as one of them, she still couldn't identify them, checked over a piece of parchment. "Mmm, there were several. Something minor for hair maintenance, a disillusionment, and breaking down of wards – although the magical signature could not be identified on any of those."

Hermione felt pride well up within her. Of course they couldn't identify them. They were _her_ spells _._

A laugh, which sounded oddly familiar to her ears, echoed around her. "If that's not Granger, then I don't know who it would be. She had the craziest fucking hair, like a goddamn lion's mane. I guess she really did belong in Gryffindor after all. I mean, no other House with any self-respect would've accepted _that_. Besides, who else would live in this piece of shite?"

The pretentious voice finally clicked within Hermione's whirling brain, crawling beneath her skin and igniting a sudden raging fury that enveloped her body. It sunk heavily into her very bones and lit her from within like _Fiendfyre_. She would kill him – number five – slowly. Watch as the oily black pit of his soul was ripped from his body, as he lay screaming.

Draco Malfoy was a _very_ dead man.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes. This chapter also contains a mention of implied rape/mutilation and torture.

 **A/N:** Here's the next chapter – a day early! – thanks to being off of work due to snow. So much snow.

* * *

Within seconds her wand was clasped in her fist – her knuckles white with strain. Slowly, she placed the cloak within the confines of her small, beaded purse she kept on her person at all times and edged closer to the lobby entrance doors. Her breath came in sharp pants. Her vision blackening along her peripheral. _He_ was the darkness who chose to defile her friend until there was nothing left of her light. _He_ was the reason she no longer had her friend – her confidante – with her. _He_ was the reason she was alone now. _He_ was a man counting his very last breaths, he just didn't know it yet. Carefully, she crouched at the entrance and peeked her head around the corner. Her ears tuned back into the conversation, her anger only growing.

"Alright, Malfoy, what do you want to do? Should McLaggen and I wait for you or what? My dad is expecting me back at the Manor so I'd like to wrap this up quickly."

Rustle of clothing. "No, not tonight, Flint. I've got an unavoidable appointment in an hour. I leave it to you both to get the job done. Although, do ensure you don't kill the bint. I want her strapped up in my quarters for when I return tonight."

Male snickering.

"Oh, what do you plan on doing with our little Gryffindor Princess? Surely your cock won't need wetting so soon after your _appointment_."

"Watch your tongue, _McLaggen_. You are _nothing_ and _no one_ to question me or my business. If I want the slag in my quarters, then, she _will_ be in my quarters. _Understood_?"

There was a slight pause before another man, Hermione thought it might be Flint – what was his first name? Marcus? – spoke up. "Can one be considered a slag if they've never had sex before? I mean, really, I'm having a hard time imagining anyone wanting to get inside the chit's knickers – let alone her quim."

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Probably not. I heard rumors on both sides during our time at school. Some said she was as prudish as they came and her knickers were probably the home of acromantula webs." Male laughter. "Others say she gave it up to the tosser, Krum, and a few hold out saying she gave it to the Weasel. All that true love bullshite and what not. Personally, I'm eager to discover the truth myself. There's something to be said about fucking a bitch and then carving your name into her delicate flesh."

Hermione blinked. Slowly. Her brain trying to process what had just been said. To say that Hermione was disgusted, well, that would be the biggest understatement of the fucking century. Who was _he_ to question her purity – or possible lack thereof? Just because she had turned down his _many_ unwanted advances? Her fingers flexed around her wand as she slowly stood and stepped around the corner. Her breaths rattled in her chest, puffs of white air escaping between her clenched teeth. Hadn't she been carved up enough? No? Well, he seemed to fancy the art of it, so maybe he needed a lesson of his own. She would _gladly_ tutor him in that respect.

"Whatever, McLaggen. Do what you will. Just make sure she ends up in _my_ bed once you're finished with her. I've got to go. Take care of her." _Crack._

Hermione couldn't even register disappointment at the platinum blond's departure. No. His death required a certain finesse of which she would need to prepare for. As of this moment, her eyes were only for one man. She began to silently move forward, her arm raising from its place by her side. With a swift flick of her wrist, Flint blinked out of existence. McLaggen jumped, wand raised, mouth slightly parted; but it was too late. In rapid succession, Hermione cast a _Stupefy_ and _Petrificus Totalis_ and watched as the oaf fell to the cobblestoned street in a heap of black, his wand snapping in the processs. Her eyes trailed over his rumpled form, her wand dangling listlessly from her curled fingers as she considered what to do with the prick.

Inspiration struck as she realized the arse could be quite useful to her plans to capture Draco. With a careful swish and flick, his limp body began to rise from the cobblestones; silently waiting for her next command. She turned sharply on her heel and headed back through the doorway – ensuring his head smacked _none too gently_ against the fractured wood – and up to her room.

With a _thump_ she let Cormac's body fall to the floor, her wand shooting out thick ropes to wrap around his wrists and attach themselves to a water pipe that was visible through a rather large hole in the wall. Humming quietly to herself, she walked to the bathroom and grabbed the knife from the sink counter; gently tapping the cool blade against her open palm. She took her wand and cast a quick _Muffliato_ on the room before setting the delicate piece of wood on her unkempt bed with its ragged yellow blankets. With knife in hand, she walked towards his prone body and tapped the toe of her shoe against the floor. After waiting several seconds with no sign of waking – really, she was being very generous – she hauled her leg back and, with a grunt, sent her foot flying into his rib cage, a satisfying _crack_ echoing around them.

Cormac awoke screaming, his body hunched, his arms struggling against the binds that held him. "What the _fuck_ you crazy arsed bint?!"

Hermione scoffed as she knelt in front of the man and removed his mask. Clouded green eyes and a head of wiry, golden hair was revealed to her. She had forgotten that the arrogant little man before her did indeed have a pretty face. It was going to be such a _pity_ to mess it up.

"Now, now, Cormac. That's no way to talk to an old school chum is it?"

His eyes widened, "You're fucking insane. What the hell did you do to Flint?"

Hermione shrugged carelessly, the dirt caked beneath her chipped fingernails suddenly very interesting. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure; which, of course, buggers me to hell and back – as you well know. The insufferable know-it-all and such. Where exactly do Vanished objects go once banished?"

"YOU FUCKING _VANISHED_ HIM?"

Hermione blinked, her eyes wide and glistening with feigned innocence. "Well, what else was I supposed to do with him?"

Vibrant, red splotches began to color his face and neck. She could even hear his teeth grinding. She _tsked_ mentally, thinking of how her parents had absolutely detested the habit. "You really have gone round the bend. So, what do you plan on doing with _me_?"

Hermione chuckled and leaned closer to his face. "Excellent question! Ten points to Gryffindor! Well…you're not really a Gryffindor anymore, are you? No, you've become nothing more than a lowly _pet_ for those you serve; but I digress. How familiar are you with Malfoy's schedule?"

Cormac's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "What does he have to do with me being held against my will?"

Hermione sighed. "I thought you were smart enough to figure this out on your own, but I guess you're just a pretty face aren't you? Well, let me educate you. You are going to tell me what Malfoy's schedule is – don't look at me like that, you _will_ tell me. The longer you take to answer my questions, the more suffering I shall inflict upon your mortal body before I finally let you perish."

Cormac scowled. "So, what? No matter what the fuck I tell you I'm going to die? Yeah, no thanks."

Hermione's patience was already dangling on a very fine thread, but it finally snapped when his spittle collided with her cheek. Faster than she even knew she could move, her hand clasped his jaw tightly. "I'd watch that tongue of yours before I cut it out. Now. How frequently does Malfoy visit the entertainment houses?"

A growled _fuck you_ was spat forth and Hermione grunted. "No, thank you. I do believe you've tried that course of action plenty of times – with no fulfillment, I might add. So, Cormac, did you know that I can make you completely immobile without using _any_ form of magic? No? Well, I suppose you wouldn't. Muggles are so _beneath_ you. Well, let me give you a little lesson. The human body consists of various major arteries that, when opened, can have a person bleed out – which means die, in case you didn't know – within minutes. One such artery runs right through your upper thigh. If I were to, I don't know, cut that artery now you would only have a matter of minutes before your body failed you. Fortunately for you, I know _just_ enough magic to keep you in such a state that you'll live, but you'd be completely incapacitated. If you continue to misbehave, I promise you, I will cut you so deep your leg will be hanging on in a similar fashion as Nearly Headless Nick's head. Understood?"

Cormac's eyes narrowed, but Hermione could see his overly large adam's apple bob shakily. "You wouldn't."

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard she could feel the start of a headache coming on. "Seriously? Do you honestly believe that? I _literally_ just _vanished_ your friend – _in front of you_ ; and you think I won't do this?"

There was silence as the man sitting stiffly in front of her seemed to think on his options. His reply made her think he was either really, really brave or just so completely void of brains it was almost criminal to hurt him. Her warm caramel eyes stared ahead thoughtfully. She was banking that he thought he was being really brave, but truly did not have an ounce of self-preservation in him. Maybe there was still a bit of Gryffindor in him after all. Sighing, she leaned back on her heels, her eyes flicking down to his open robes where she could clearly see his pressed slacks. They would need to be removed.

Gently setting the knife on the floor beside her right leg, she leaned forward and reached for his belt. Cormac stiffened, Hermione quirked a brow. "Oh hush now. You most certainly aren't getting _that_. Now, stop squirming. Yes, that's it, good boy." Within seconds she had his belt unclasped, the button free from the latch, and zipper down. She moved further down his legs and grasped the hem of his trousers. "Lift your bum, please."

"You seriously think I'm going to help make it easier for you to torture me?"

Hermione sighed. "I figured I'd leave you some choices while you can still make them. Remember I _can_ make you lift by force, if you'd prefer."

A couple moments later she felt the tension in his trousers lessen and she tugged. Before long, they were completely off and Hermione stared on in disgust. "No pants? Really? You always were an over-confident little bugger." Her eyes flicked slightly downward. "Well _that_ doesn't look quite so confident does it? No worries, we'll have some fun with that later. After all, there's something to be said about _carving your name into such delicate flesh_ , isn't there?" She paused, her teeth slightly nibbling her lower lip. "Actually, my name might be a bit _too_ long to fit on something so… _tiny._ "

Cormac cringed. "What are you going to do?"

Hermione smiled – she was positive it resembled more of a feral grin than anything. "Are you going to answer my questions?" He shook his head side to side. "Well," she picked up the knife, "first, I'm going to sever that lovely little artery in your leg I was telling you about. _Then_ we'll see how things go. It all depends on you really."

Faster than Cormac's eyes could track, she was plunging the knife in his upper thigh, hitting bone, and his throat ached from his screams as he felt the ridged metal withdraw from his body. He watched through watery eyes as she retrieved her wand and began muttering under her breath. "What are you doing?" he choked out.

"Just putting a form of stasis charm on the wound. Can't have you bleeding out quite yet."

Hermione walked back towards her old school mate and picked up the knife. Slowly, she dragged the wet blade against the rough denim of her jeans, taking precious time to clean it. Once the blood had mostly disappeared she leaned forward and tapped his cheek lovingly.

"Now, are you ready to talk?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes. This chapter also contains a mention of implied rape/mutilation and torture.

 **A/N:** I am _so_ sorry for the delay in updating. There was some truly _epic_ family drama that I inevitably got dragged into and I needed to take a break from this story to get myself in a good place mentally. Hopefully, I will be back to updating regularly. This chapter isn't my best, but I hope you still enjoy it. So, without further ado, here's Chapter Four!

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Silence – with the exception of his pitiful whimpering – filled the room as Hermione continued to stare at the huddled man before her. She noticed he had tried to curl in on himself, but was unable to move his damaged leg. A smile pulled at her chapped lips, her tongue darting out to wet them – the metallic taste of blood hitting her palate.

"I'll ask again," she whispered sweetly, the knife turning slowly within her grasp, "how often does Malfoy visit the entertainment houses?"

"I thought you were supposed to be the brightest witch at school. Do I really need to explain what _fuck you_ means?" Cormac's lips pulled into what she was sure he hoped was a snarky grin, but only managed to turn into a pained grimace.

Hermione _tsked_ and gently trailed the smooth edge of the knife against his stomach. Watched as goosebumps rose on his surprisingly unblemished skin. "Tell me, Cormac, how is it you managed to come out of this war without a single scar? It seems unfathomable to me, even if you turned tail and ran to the Death Eaters like a frightened kitten, that you would still be so unmarred. Hardly seems fair don't you agree?"

She watched as his stomach muscles flexed beneath the blade, her smile growing. "I think…yes, I think that we should remedy that."

She moved the blade upwards until the tip lightly kissed his collar bone. Digging in slightly, she dragged the blade down until it met the tip of his pectoral – a near identical image to hers. He didn't scream, but she hadn't really intended for him to. No, this was going to be a lesson; and as her friends all knew, she was quite the little professor in her younger days. "You see, I got this very same scar from a slicing hex thrown by one of your comrades when escaping a surprise attack from you lot. I wonder, were you a willing participant in that act? Knowing that it was me who they were hunting? I'm sure you were absolutely giddy at the prospect, weren't you? Yes…"

She dropped the knife further down his stomach and slashed from beneath his other pectoral until the blade dug into his hip bone – feeling the vibrations within the weapon's handle as it grinded against bone. Her fingers trailed along the deeper mark, digging in slightly; his blood coating them generously. "This beauty I received in my fifth year by a man name Antonin Dolohov. Do you remember him? He was able to attend the Final Battle; but, alas, he didn't see the outcome. Would you care to know why?"

Cormac shuddered. Tears leaving jagged tracks down his ashen cheeks. She watched as his chest heaved with exertion as he gritted out, "Why?"

Hermione smiled softly, "Because a spell I discovered on my travels with Harry and Ron siphoned _every_ ounce of blood from his body until nothing remained but a shriveled corpse. Now, I know what you're thinking. The goody-two-shoes Hermione Granger used _dark magic_." She laughed. "Hardly. You see that spell was in a _medical_ text. Used only in dire circumstances when a witch or wizard's blood is no longer sustainable and a transfusion of sorts needs to occur in order to heal them. What a _pity_ for Dolohov that I didn't have any blood on my hands…well except his of course."

A shudder ran through him and Hermione sighed, "We could end this if you would just tell me what I want to know. There's no need to be so… _Gryffindor_."

A mirthless chuckle escaped on a gasp, "Guess I was sorted right after all."

Hermione snarled. "You are nothing but a disgrace to our namesake." Her hand moved with purpose until the object she wanted was grasped firmly in her hand. "Talk or I will carve this up while you still breathe."

Success. "Three times a week."

Hermione grinned, "See that wasn't so hard was it? You could have avoided all of this mess if you would have just come forth to begin with. What I need you to tell me now is what are his…preferences?"

"Preferences?"

Hermione growled. "Yes, you dolt. What kind of girls does he visit at these _appointments_ of his?"

"How the hell should I know? As I'm sure you heard, his business is none of _mine_."

"Now, now. You _make_ it your business to know other people's affairs. How else would you have managed to memorize my schedule in school to be my ever-present stalker?"

Cormac's eyes shifted to stare unseeingly behind her. She knew if she didn't get the answers she needed quickly he would go into shock and there would be nothing to be done then. She gave him a reaffirming squeeze to remind him what _,_ exactly, she held within her grasp. He shifted, his eyes returning to her face. "You."

Hermione paused. "What?"

"You. You are his preferences. He has this… _obsession_ with you. He wants to own you. Best you, I guess. Always goes on and on about whatever wench he's fucking that week. Makes her dress up in a Gryffindor uniform and everything. Never works though. He's always in a foul mood afterwards. I guess no matter how close one of the girls resembles you he knows it's not _you_ and flips his shit. I do my best to stay out of his way after that. Can't say the girls are as fortunate."

Hermione blinked slowly. Her eyes faintly recognizing the blood rivulets that were flowing down his chest and beginning to cover both her hand and his thighs. She shrugged, her right shoulder lifting slightly. "I suppose that makes sense. He was always quite angry when my grades surpassed his. Well, this will make my job all the easier when I get my hands on him; but that doesn't explain why he visited Luna so often."

Cormac shrugged, well as best he could. His arms had succumbed to the numbness of being elevated above his head for so long; but his shoulders felt like they'd been set on fire. "He figured that by using her it would draw you out sooner or later. She was the perfect bait in his eyes. Everyone knew how _close_ you two had gotten after the Final Battle. She was just a stepping stone to the final prize. Which, again, was _you_."

Hermione could feel the burn of fresh tears stinging her eyes. She had already known it was her fault that Luna had fallen into the enemy's hands – she hadn't protected her, hadn't been prepared for the attack; but to actually _know_ was absolutely devastating. Maybe Luna would have been able to escape if Hermione hadn't painted a huge target on her back. She swallowed past the thickness in her throat. Her guilt and grief settling heavily in her stomach, nausea welling up within her. She blinked furiously, trying to reign in her emotions. It would not do to lose control of the situation so close to the end.

"Luna was as innocent as they came. Why couldn't you have displayed this innate Gryffindor courage you seem to have found all of a sudden to help rescue her?"

Cormac scoffed. "Seriously? What the hell was I supposed to do you daft bint? I would be just as dead as she is if I'd even stepped a toe out of line. There's no fucking chance I would have double crossed those bastards."

Hermione sat back on her heels, her hand tapping the slick blade against her open palm. "It is our choices…that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

"The fuck? You going all philosophical on me? I see you haven't completely lost your touch. Still the ever annoying know-it-all. So, where'd you hear that little tidbit?"

Hermione smiled. "Headmaster Dumbledore, of course. Although I wasn't very fond of him on most occasions, he did – however – say some very potent things once in a while. One of two things I love that man for."

Cormac sat silently, his green eyes watching the disheveled witch in front of him. She had changed, drastically, over the years. Her cheeks were sunken, her eyes framed by large purple bags, her frame all too petite. The war had not been good to her and he was ashamed that the familiar feeling of guilt was beginning to burn his chest. He swallowed, eyes averted. "What's the second thing?"

His eyes squeezed shut trying to prevent the fresh wave of tears as he felt her lean in closer – her frizzy curls gently skimming along his bare chest. He could feel her lips graze against the shell of his ear and nearly sobbed when the words "I have the Elder Wand" processed through his brain. With a shaky breath he said, "You can't possibly."

Hermione chuckled, "Oh, but I most certainly can. You see, Harry – I later found out – died in that Final Battle because he refused to use the power of the Elder Wand to finish the snake-faced bastard off. The wand – that lovely, lovely wand – was hidden within his robes. Funny isn't it? That the man was so _obsessed_ with Harry that he didn't even _think_ to search him or take his body. No, he was too excited over his victory, over rounding up the resistance, that he didn't even take notice of me disapparating with my brother and removing the piece of wood from his jacket."

Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Now, I have one final question for you."

Cormac shuddered. She could clearly see the fear glistening in his glassy eyes, but his jaw remained firm – chin tilted up in his last bit of defiance – as he awaited her final words.

"Do you regret? Do you feel guilty for the actions you have taken in this life?"

She watched him think on her words. His tongue darting out from between his dry and cracked lips, running a shaky wet line across them. She watched as he sniffled and his eyes blink the remaining tears away. She watched as his piercing green eyes framed by golden lashes met her smooth brown once more. She watched as his body relaxed and he welcomed the inevitable. She watched as his mouth parted, his answer ringing in the silence. She watched as the sickly green light dispersed from the tip of her vinewood and collided with his center chest cavity. She watched through blurry eyes as the light in his faded and his body went limp in the restraints.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes. This chapter also contains a mention of implied rape/mutilation and torture.

 **A/N:** I decided to post this chapter a bit early as a HUGE thanks to all my readers for sticking with me during my ridiculously long break. I hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

Trembling fingers reached out towards the coarse rope – broken fingernails clawing apart the magically knotted restraints. Carefully, as each arm was freed, she gently laid it next to his prone body. Within minutes, he was lying somewhat peacefully on the chipped and weathered floor. She slowly fell to her knees, sitting back on her heels, as she reached for her wand – the thin piece of wood visibly shaking within her grasp, no matter how much she tried to still it.

With a few murmured words on a soft exhale, the blood that coated his chest began to slowly disappear – the wounds beginning to knit themselves together. With a grunt she rolled Cormac onto his side and placed the tip of the knife at the collar of his ghastly black robes. Being mindful not to further mar him, she pulled the knife downwards – listening to the almost too-loud sound of ripping cloth and her harsh breathing. Once finished, she laid him down and tugged each half of the robes from his body.

Standing, knees slightly quivering with small tremors, she made her way to the bed and grabbed the ragged yellow sheet she had been using as a blanket. Yes, it wasn't in the best condition; but he couldn't really complain about it now, could he?

With a swish and a flick, his body rose into the air until he settled around the height of her waist. Humming quietly – an obscure song she had memorized from her childhood – she began to gently wrap him within the sheet; ensuring his arms were tucked neatly on his chest. With a small bob of her wand, his body floated towards her makeshift cot – the only clean surface in the space – and began to scramble around her bedroom and bathroom, gathering all of her personal effects and shoving them into the deep confines of her small beaded purse.

After taking a final sweep of the room, she stared at the wall – her eyes flicking to the pool of blood that remained on the floor. Thinking quickly, she dabbed her fingers within the now cooling liquid, and began to run her fingers across the bumpy surface. Fifteen letters later, she was standing next to the bed – her hand lazily dragging over her jeans to remove the blood – staring up at the words _You're Next, Ferret._ With a smirk pulling at her lips, she tightened her hold on her bag and placed her right hand on Cormac's folded ones. With a deep breath, she pictured where she wanted to go and with a _pop_ they had disappeared.

Her vision swam in the pitch black of the transition, her insides squirming as she maintained her hold on her old schoolmate's hands. What felt like hours later, but was only a couple of seconds in truth, they appeared in a densely wooded area. A sad smile found its way on her face, her eyes burning with fresh tears as she remembered the last time she had been here. The Forest of Dean. She had spent what seemed like years in this Forest with her two best friends, hunting down horcruxes, scavenging for food, trying to stay alive. Even though Ron had left them – to later return sulkily once his pride had been put in check – and even though they were soon after caught by the Snatchers, it had been nice to spend time with just her boys. She hadn't known at that point what little time she had left with them.

With a grunt, her voice gravelly from her strained attempts of holding back her sobs, she laid Cormac's body on the leafy floor and pointed her wand about five feet out. With a resounding _Expulso_ – what else was she supposed to do? – the forest floor before her exploded. Dirt flew through the air haphazardly, her hands quickly coming up to cover her face. Peering through her fingers, she figured one more should do it and then the crude grave she was creating would be complete. With a sharp flick and muttered word, the ground exploded once more and Hermione sighed. Carefully, she levitated Cormac's body one final time and gently placed him within the rich earth – only adjusting his rather long limbs to ensure he would fit properly. Keeping an ear open for any passing presence, she began to cover his body in the remaining soil until she could no longer see his lifeless form. Gathering a few golden and orange-red leaves, she began to arrange them in the form of a small wreath just above his head.

Bowing her head – chin nearly touching her upper chest – she prayed to a God she hadn't spoken to in years.

"Master of the skies and of the earth, I ask for Your forgiveness. Del, who's light and healing waters cleanse the darkness in all things. Scorch the sins of Beng from his soul and welcome him into Your warm embrace. His heart is true, but clouded with arrogance and cowardice. Lead him to where the brave at heart dwell, where chivalry carries on, where love never fades, and hope never dies. Guide him to his final resting place – where he may know every peace."

Tears leaked from her eyes as she pulled a jar from her purse. With a soft whisper and gentle swish of her wand, bluebell flames danced from the tip of her wand and into the glass container. Tightening the overly dented aluminum lidding set with small holes, she set the substitute candle next to the wreath and stood – lightly dusting the dirt that had caked on her jeans alongside the dried blood. With a shaky breath, taking a moment to feel the wind brush across her skin as if delicately kissing her soul, she clenched her purse in her left hand and her wand in the other and spun on the spot.

Within seconds she was in another wooded location and she took off running like the hounds of hell were chasing after her – which, honestly, wasn't a bad analogy where Death Eaters were concerned. She wasn't sure for how long she ran, but she continued on, even when her lungs felt as if they were burning and on the verge of seizing up. She angrily swiped at the tears staining her cheeks, the cool wind causing them to slightly chap – worsening whatever situation she had going on with her lips. After what seemed like ages, she finally stumbled upon a rather nondescript park. Thankfully with it being surely past midnight, it appeared to be abandoned. She dodged the swings and slides, running with the remaining energy she had towards the woods that bordered the child's haven. She ducked and twisted past tumbled logs and broken branches, only slowing after tripping over her shoelace. She had made it to a point where she could no longer see the park before collapsing against a tree. Her chest heaving from exertion, her breath forming small white clouds in front of her.

Quiet sobs broke the night air, her hands finding themselves clenched within her tangled locks. Her legs collapsed from beneath her, her throat sore from raw sobs. She could feel the twigs and rocks digging like little pins into her kneecaps as her body began to shake. She was broken from her misery – of the visions of Cormac's life fading from his bright green eyes – when a distant _crack_ was heard. Her mind raced. Thoughts of being captured, tortured, abused all floating through her mind like a horrendous nightmare.

Her brown eyes swept across the dark landscape, her breathing coming in short pants. They couldn't have found her, surely? Fuck if she knew, but she wasn't about to wait around and see. With energy she no longer knew she possessed, she quickly got to her feet and took off into the night. Running. It was all she ever did anymore. She was so bloody tired of running, but she knew she could never stop. Stopping was a death sentence for her now. Never before had she appreciated the quiet sanctity of Hogwarts' library more than she did right this moment.

She stumbled in the dark – her thoughts scattered to the wind – the waning moon not providing much light for her path. She cursed under her breath after catching the toe of her trainer on a rather large rock nearly sending her careening into the adjacent tree, face first. She continued to run, until she could run no more. Her legs broke from beneath her. Her body curling in on itself to protect what it could from the cold.

Slowly, Hermione raised a trembling hand to her mouth, her tongue seeming to grow three times as large as she felt the burn of bile in the back of her throat. After several attempts, she finally managed to calm down enough to swallow successfully without gagging. Her eyes drifted towards the night sky – thousands upon thousands of stars glittering peacefully next to their brother, the moon. At least the moon was never alone. Unlike her. Always and forever, it seemed, alone. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the forest, a tired smile tugging at her lips. She had always loved the woods, well nature in general had always been appealing to her. Bringing her a form of peace she could never obtain anywhere else – well, besides her beloved books of course. She supposed she had her parents to thank for that.

Within time, she could feel herself slipping into the clutches of exhaustion-induced sleep. She tried to fight it, but her eyes refused to open – merely light muscle twitches in her eyelids. Her teeth lightly clattered against one another in the cold night air. Arms tightly clutching her purse and wand to her chest as she fought for the remaining warmth hidden within the ragged Chudley Cannons sweater. It was just as her breathing leveled and warmth began to envelop her tired bones that she heard a voice. A sweet, sweet voice whispering her name like a prayer. Not her last name, her _first_ name. One she hadn't heard said in such a loving voice in so, so long she thought she might weep. Somewhere deep inside she knew that voice, she was sure of it; but at this moment she didn't have the mental capacity to figure it out. Besides, a voice so full of kindness and love was surely owned by an Angel.

An Angel that had finally come to take her home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Just a small scene at the end that I personally think is rated PG – maybe T for some readers – but just a heads up. It's not the best, but I wanted to get something out to you guys quickly. Enjoy! :)

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With a groggy sigh, Hermione curled in further on herself forming a tight ball of boney limbs. Calloused fingers reached up to her eyes and halfheartedly rubbed the crystallized sleep from her lashes. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open – her sight still blurry from the best sleep she had had in ages. After several more attempts her eyes began to focus and the sight before her was not what she expected. Instead of trees lit up by the moon and fresh wind blowing against her; she was in a dark room, lying on a bed that was certainly not hers. She shot up, her legs quickly pulled to her chest. Her eyes darted around furiously, chest beginning to heave with harsh breaths.

Air. She needed air desperately. Her throat constricted, numb fingers clawed the prickling skin of her neck to relieve the ache. Sounds, like that of angry claps of thunder, echoed in her ears. Her heart racing wildly within her chest. Tears leaked from her eyes like a dripping faucet as she continued her failing attempts at gaining what she needed. Crouched in the upper corner of the strange bed, her body began to seize, coated in a cold sweat, as she rocked back and forth. Death. She was going to die.

A door creaked open to her left. Her eyes stared unseeing into the spinning darkness. Suddenly, a light began to appear out of the corner of her eyes. She whipped her head to the left, a looming shadow hovering in the doorway. Boney hands reached upwards and slowly removed the hood hiding its face. Brittle screams ripped through her throat as she threw herself further against the wall – staring into green eyes hidden behind wiry golden hair. The ghost-like figure descended upon her; her arms flying frantically to ward off Death's touch. Her broken voice whispering _I'm sorry_ over and over.

"Hermione! Calm down! You're safe!"

The voice sounded familiar, the deep baritones resonating in her soul. She had recently heard this voice, whispering her name like a lover's caress. _No!_ She mentally shouted, her hands coming to claw at her face. Death was cunning. He would trick you into taking your very last breath. A broken whimper tore through her chapped and bleeding lips. Her lungs constricting painfully in her chest. Hands, cold and damp, reached for her. She wasn't strong enough to fight back. Death had finally claimed her soul as those hands wrapped around her tightly, their bodies gently rocking back and forth.

"Hush, Hermione. I've got you. Take this."

A chilled bottle was pressed to her lips. She refused to open her mouth for Death's poison. She wouldn't. A deep sigh sounded to her right, the warm air causing small hairs to daintily brush against the shell of her ear. Her body tensed as a hand gently took her jaw and applied enough force to open it against her will. Suddenly, the taste of peppermint filled her mouth, hitting her palate like a crashing wave and soothing her throat. Within seconds she felt her breath catch up to her overworked lungs, her body's trembling slowly ending. The raging storm within her brain began to subside as the unknown man began to speak soft reassurances.

"That's it, Hermione. Let the potion do its work. Everything will be okay. You're safe with me. Just breathe."

With time, his voice began to register as someone she knew, but her brain couldn't comprehend who exactly it was. Had she been captured? No, that didn't sound right. She was not so far gone in the aftereffects of her panic attack to blatantly ask the man who he was outright. She tried to move her head, so as to see, but a firm – yet gentle – hand held her to his rather firm chest. He certainly didn't speak, or hold, her like a prisoner. There was clearly some form of affection in his voice. Her mind whirled with thoughts of what could be happening. She had obviously passed out in the woods last night – tonight? – and been caught unaware if her memory was serving her well, which it usually did.

Before she could question the man, she felt the grip of sleep begin to drag her under. She felt her body being slowly lowered to the soft mattress beneath her. Fingers lovingly brushing curls away from her face with a whispered _Sweet Dreams_ echoing in her ears. With a heavy sigh, her body exhausted, her heavy lids closed. The faint melody of a violin beginning to play in the distance, drawing her into her mental pensieve.

 _The violinists continued to strum along their enchanted strings as couples swayed gently on the dance floor. Hermione was safely tucked within the arms of Remus, their bodies moving slowly across the magical floor the twins had constructed. Laughter rang in her ears as Remus favored her with an impeccable expression of one Minerva McGonagall. Although the elderly witch was one of her favorite professors, the woman did have a knack for being quite the scary woman in both her early and present years._

" _Oh Remus, you are positively dreadful. If Professor McGonagall overhears you, you'll be tossed in detention regardless of your age."_

 _Remus chuckled, "That, my dear, is indeed a frightening thought."_

 _Hermione shook her head, quiet giggles breaking through as her eyes scanned the vibrant crowd – finally landing on a couple so entwined with one another they were almost one being. "Bill and Fleur look so happy together."_

" _Indeed. I'm glad Molly finally came to her senses with the witch. Fleur is quite brilliant if the mother-hen would just let her breathe."_

 _Hermione snorted, nearly choking on her own saliva. Burying her face in her old Professor's dress robes. Everyone knew Molly's pension for trouble if she believed her child's chosen partner wasn't worth their salt. Although annoying, it was a little endearing to see how much that woman truly loved her children. "How's Tonks? Heard from her at all?"_

 _Remus sighed, his brow furrowing, causing the rather large scar running up his cheek to stretch. "Not in a week."_

 _Hermione squeezed her partner's hand, "Don't worry. She's quite clumsy – no one can deny that – but she is a_ brilliant _witch and Auror and can take care of herself. Besides, she has Kingsley and Moody with her. She'll be absolutely fine."_

 _Remus smiled, his frown slightly easing. "You're absolutely right, you brilliant little witch. I shouldn't worry so much, but Moony gets a bit anxious when she's gone."_

 _Hermione nodded in understanding, "Well of course he does. She's your mate and it only makes sense to worry about the love of your life – even if it is a tad bit unnecessary."_

 _She gave his hand one final squeeze before stepping back as the music came to a close. "I'm going to get a drink and check on Harry – he seems to be having quite the interesting conversation with Luna's father. You, meanwhile, should probably go remove the twins from the punch bowl before the infamous Weasley matron sees how much firewhiskey they're dumping in there."_

 _Remus glanced over his shoulder to see the twins were indeed, not so secretly, pouring rather large amounts of various alcohol into the punch. He sighed, kissed the top of her slightly less messy curls, and made his way over to the red-headed mischief makers with a parting smile. Hermione watched him go with a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Remus had been such a blessing in her life. Yes, they had formed a connection after she discovered his secret in her third year; but when she had been told her parents had passed away, he had immediately taken her in as if she were a daughter to him. Although she practically told her boys everything, sometimes she just needed to be held by the man she considered her adoptive father; he had always been there for her._

 _She quickly blinked away the slight burning sensation creeping behind her eyes as she remembered that wretched time and turned swiftly to the non-tainted beverages. She filled her small plastic cup to the brim with whatever festive punch was in the bowl and let the cool liquid calm her parched throat. Turning on her heel, the scenery changed in a blur before stilling and her eyes landed on the man she was seeking. Alone, at a table tucked away in the corner of the Gryffindor common room, sat her very best friend – her brother. His black hair, messy as it always was, refusing to follow the rulings of a brush. His bright green eyes staring vacantly into the thinning crowd as everyone wandered off for their beds. She watched him for several seconds, noting his sullen look – an open book in front of him. With a shake of the head she approached him._

" _Now, Harry, this is absolutely no time for moping!"_

 _Harry blushed, a hand shyly rubbing the back of his neck. "I was_ not _moping!"_

" _You most certainly were! Now, what's got you upset? Does your head hurt?"_

" _No…you wouldn't understand, Hermione."_

 _A gasp broke the silence, her hand slapping against her chest. "_ Me _not understand something? Her eyes narrowed into her infamous glare known to reflect the fiery pits of hell – delighting in Harry shivering, it never failed. "Try me."_

 _Harry sighed and cast his eyes downward to his clasped hands. "Cho has already been asked to the Yule Ball."_

 _Hermione stared, hard, for several seconds. "Seriously? This is what you're upset about? There are hundreds of girls here and you're upset because one Ravenclaw turned you down?"_

 _Harry's shoulders slumped, a small grumble escaping his chest. "I really like her."_

 _Hermione sat beside her despairing friend and took his hands in hers. "I'm sorry. I know you really like her, but what's done is done. Do you have anyone else in mind?"_

 _Harry shrugged, his expression growing even more despondent. Hermione sighed, her fingers gently tapping against her chin._ Tap, tap, tap tap tap. _Harry began to fidget in the silence, his eyes flicking up to stare at her face. She made a startled noise, causing him to nearly fall out of his chair._

" _What? What is it?"_

 _Hermione beamed, bouncing excitedly in her chair. "Luna!"_

 _Harry made a face causing Hermione to stiffen. "What? What's wrong with her?"_

" _She's a bit…odd. Can you imagine her dancing?"_

" _Seriously? Like you could dance any better, Mister Clubfoot?" Hermione snarked, her arms crossing over her chest. "Since when are you so shallow? Scared you'll be made fun of for being seen with_ Looney Lovegood _?"_

" _I-I'm not_ shallow _! I just…I just…I don't know. You're right, she's our friend and would definitely be a step up above the rest."_

 _Hermione clapped and stood. "Of course I'm right. Telling me I wouldn't understand something. Hmph! Now, get your sad little bum off to bed. You've got a big day tomorrow."_

 _She kissed the top of his head and spun on her heel to leave. Once again the scenery changed in a maddening blur, landing her in the rows of books in the library. With a soft smile, she trailed her fingers along the old spines as she made her way down the aisle. Suddenly she was caught around the waist, large hands gripping her hips firmly and gently placing her chest against the wooden shelves. She moaned as his front made contact with her back, his own hips grinding into her bum. Her hands lifted and reached behind her, gently taking hold of the silken locks at the nape of his neck, bringing his face closer to her throat._

 _She sighed blissfully as his full lips began pressing warm kisses on her skin, nibbling her earlobe like it was his favorite dessert. His hands ran up and down her sides, cold chills running down her spine in the process. She shivered as she pressed against him harder._

 _A deep chuckle sounded next to her ear, "Excited are we, love?"_

 _Hermione's response was a mangled groan as she turned her head and brought her lips crashing into his. They continued ravenously, he quickly spinning her to face him. Pressing her further into the shelving as he grabbed her left leg and hoisted it above his hip, allowing her to anchor it there._

" _You've been quite the naughty little girl, Hermione." He whispered, causing Hermione to freeze – surprised. That voice. As if awaking from a daze, she moved her head away from the figure standing so close to her and looked up at his face. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating furiously as realization dawned on her. Shaking her head, she began to retreat hastily, the boy staring at her with utter confusion._

" _Hermione?"_

 _She shivered, causing her to trip over her own feet. She clenched her eyes tightly as she felt herself falling downwards, felt strong arms wrap around her waist securely. When she didn't feel the_ thump _of landing on a hard surface, she opened her eyes – slowly – and peered into piercing blue eyes._

Startling awake, her eyes shot open to meet those same blue eyes from her dream. The gaze of a man she hadn't seen in years. One she had thought either long dead or a traitorous bastard – she had never discovered his whereabouts.

Opening her mouth – eyes glistening with unshed tears, her throat burning – she whispered with utmost heartbreak:

"Theo?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** House hunting is the equivalent of slaying a Basilisk or Hungarian Horntail, I feel, thanks to this being a Seller's Market. *le sigh*

* * *

Hermione stared up into the eyes of a man she had buried in the back of her subconscious many years ago. Emotions coursed through her mind and body like a rampaging herd: confusion, love, fear…anger. The latter took her heart within its scorching spindly fingers and squeezed with all its might. She felt her eyes begin to slowly narrow, her pulse quicken. She watched her reflection in Theo's eyes as he realized the exact moment he had messed up. Watched as his torso leaned further away from her, his body lifting from the disheveled blankets; but it was too late. Before she could truly comprehend what she was doing, her hand had struck out like a pissed off viper and smashed into the bridge of his nose. She had to admit that punching Slytherins had been dearly missed.

A pained squawk tore from his chest as his hands rushed to control the flood of blood pouring from his nose. "What the bloody hell woman!"

With a snarl, Hermione launched herself at him – knocking them both to the ground. Tears leaked from her eyes in thin rivulets as her hands continued to slam against his chest. "You're dead! You're supposed to be dead! W-where's my wand? Give me my wand, Theo!"

With one hand plastered to his nose and the other trying to restrain the tiny fists flying at him he managed to say – although muffled, "On the table!"

She tossed her head to the side and caught sight of her wand lying peacefully on what appeared to be a quaint little nightstand. With a _hmph_ she removed herself from his waist and darted for the piece of wood. Within seconds, she had turned on her heel and had the tip digging forcefully into his right cheek – her hair sparking in indignation.

"Why did you bring me here? Why didn't you just kill me when you found me?"

Theo looked up at her with a look that crossed between _you're an idiot_ and _she's finally gone crazy_. "What? Why would I kill you? You should know me better than that."

Hermione stared hard at the bruised man before her. Her eyes momentarily following the flow of blood he was trying to avoid choking on. "I don't make it a habit of knowing _Death Eaters_ personally."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room for several moments before Theo cleared his throat. "Look, we can get into all that in a moment; but first, do you mind?"

Hermione watched as he wiggled his fingers in the general direction of his face. She grunted and with a muttered _Episkey_ , his nose straightened and the flow of blood began to slow before stopping completely. Theo tried to stand, but as Hermione wasn't having any of _that -_ if her jabbing her wand in between his ribs was any indication - he remained on the floor – crossing his legs at the ankles.

"Thanks. So, I know you're just about bubble over with questions. Go on, ask them; _but_ , for every question you ask, I get to ask one in return. Deal?"

Hermione rolled the suggestion over in her head. On one hand she needed to get as much information out of him as possible before moving on with her plan; but, she also didn't know what questions he would ask and she was _certainly_ not ready to face whatever the two of them had once shared. Sliding her tongue across the top row of teeth, she sighed. "Alright, but nothing before the Final Battle."

Theo shrugged, "That seems fair. Go on, ask your questions love."

Hermione grimaced, as if that word alone had brought upon her death sentence. "Don't call me that. You lost your right to call me anything of the sort when you disappeared. You may call me Granger. Nothing else."

Theo watched her stand before him in all her defiant glory. Hair wild, chin tilted up, jaw locked, and eyes burning with questions. He tried not to smile. Really, he did; but there was just something there that tugged at the strings of his soul that absolutely demolished any attempts of resisting. He got a swift kick in the shin for it, but he couldn't say he regretted it.

"So, are you going to ask your questions or just stand around and stare at my devilishly handsome face all day? Oh, and could you _please_ put away the wand. I think we've established I'm not going to kill you."

Hermione remained silent, but slowly lowered her wand, causing Theo to roll his eyes dramatically. With a sigh, she sat back down on the all-too-fluffy mattress. "Why did you bring me here and where is here?"

Theo chuckled, "Ah, ah, ah. Always so inquisitive…Granger." Wink. "That's two questions. Which would you like answered first?"

Hermione scowled, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "Where is here?"

"This is a cottage that I purchased two months ago from an elderly muggle couple that had just recently passed to the next life."

Hermione could feel the lashes of her left eye beginning to twitch. She was much too impatient for this and immediately regretted ever agreeing to play these stupid games he was so fond of. "That doesn't really explain _where_ we are."

Theo smirked, placing his elbow on his raised knee – chin resting in an open palm. "All you asked is where is here; and, I hate to tell you this, but we're in my cottage. You didn't really require any form of specification during the initial negotiation now did you? Is your favorite color still lavender?"

Hermione blinked, slowly. Her mind trying to process the words that had just come out of the man's mouth. "Seriously? That's your question?"

Theo simply nodded, an ever-growing smirk taking over his face. "Yes, please answer it."

Hermione rubbed the palm of a hand down her face with a groan. "Yes. My turn. Why did you bring me _to this cottage_?"

"Because I didn't find the thought of you dying in the woods pleasurable in any way; and, believe me, you are not one to leave me wanting…Granger." Wink.

Hermione could feel the heat beginning to crawl up her neck and into her cheeks. Why did he have to say such insufferable things? Before he could get his next question out she asked, "Why would you care?" Not that she was interested in any way as to what it was. No. Of course not.

"I'm not even going to dignify _that_ with an answer. You know why and I shan't repeat myself." Theo muttered, his eyes looking at his bloodied fingernails in disgust before wiping them lazily on his pressed trousers. "Is your Patronus still that adorable little otter?"

She began muttering profanities under her breath receiving a chuckle from the dark-haired wizard in return. She glared down at him with a whispered, "Your questions are stupid."

"Maybe to you, but I like my questions. So, is it?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes. It is. Isn't yours a honey badger? What a darling little Hufflepuff you make."

Theo narrowed his eyes, the lids falling practically closed as he peered through the thin slits. "I'll have you know the honey badger can be quite the fierce little bugger when needed. More so than your otter. What's that thing going to do? Nibble me to death?" Theo burst into laughter when he caught the blush staining her cheeks. "That's a rhetorical question by the way. So I get to go again. Let's see…"

"No, no, no. You asked a question and I don't give a bloody damn whether it was rhetorical or not. How are you not dead?"

"Simple. No one's killed me yet. Now..."

"Theodore Matheus Nott. Answer me. Now."

Theo sighed, throwing his body back to lay fully on the floor. His eyes stared upwards at the thick wooden support beams. He lay there silently, seemingly gathering his thoughts on how best to answer. He was interrupted by the impatient grunting of his once beloved. He did not hide the fact he rolled his eyes in the slightest; and found some twisted amusement in watching her body tense and fists clench. "It's the truth. I'm not dead because I haven't been killed. I'm not sure how I made it this long and, to be honest, that's why I purchased this cabin. I've spent the last three years ensuring your safety, but at a cost to me personally, both physically and mentally." Pause. "The degrading revels they make us partake in…even if you've managed to become this battle-hardened warrior for the Light…the things they make us do…it's…it's repulsive, Hermione. I'm trying to slowly get out. Up and leaving is an immediate death sentence; but, hopefully, one day I'll be able to leave this place…" he paused, his eyes shifting towards Hermione, before whispering, "…with you."

Hermione looked down at her clasped hands; although, her vision was so blurry all she could make out was their fuzzy outline. She could feel the burning start of fresh tears and she absolutely refused to let them fall. It felt like these past couple of days had been nothing but of her crying. She couldn't break down in front of him. Especially him. He had torn her apart once. He certainly wouldn't do it again because of a few meaningless words.

"You said you've been protecting me…how? Why?"

"The how and why are much the same, yeah? I protect you through whatever means necessary because I..."

Hermione could feel her heart beginning to race, her hands beginning to shake, and her lower lip beginning to tremble. "Stop. You can't. You don't even know me. Not anymore."

Theo scoffed and jumped to his feet, "Of course I know you. I know that your hair is a beast that can't be fully tamed, especially in the mornings. I know that your eyes are the shade of my favorite sweets. I know that you tug your right earlobe when you're second-guessing yourself about a question on a test. I know you get self-conscious about the ink stains on your fingers. I know you have scars – physical and mental. I know you sleep with a picture of your friends close by. I know you're on some back-arsed crazy mission to take down the tyranny of the nose-less bastard. I _know_ , that _no matter_ what happens in this life, you will _always_ remain pure."

He stopped pacing and slowly approached her still frame. He stared hard into her wide, glassy eyes; tenderly brushing a curl from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. With care he knelt in front of her and took her hands within his, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I know you're probably asking yourself _how do you know_? Simple. I know because you are the quintessential Gryffindor, through and through. There is no self-preservation in you. You are not a _coward_. Not like me." Theo swiped the tears from her chapped cheeks with the slightly rough pads of his fingers before grasping her hands once more. "So, you see. I _do_ know you. It doesn't matter how much time has passed or the events that have happened in between. I know your essence, your light, and your love; and no matter how much you wish it to be untrue, my heart will _never_ _stop loving you_."

He carefully got back to his feet after placing a quick kiss to the back of each of her hands. He smiled in that way he usually did when she was around and cheerfully asked, "Now that the dramatics are over for the time being, would you care for some breakfast?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** I am so sorry that I've been such a terrible person and haven't updated this story. Life has been crazy busy this past month as we're trying to close on a house and get our over-filled apartment packed up. I hope to have chapters out more frequently now that things are slowing down a bit. As for the story, we take another step forward! I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Poke.

Poke.

Poke, poke, poke.

Hermione continued to stare in silence as she watched the lightly scratched metal prongs of her fork impale themselves on some form of yellow substance that had quite the – odd – movement. She tried – really, she did – but she couldn't manage to actually get the food into her mouth. For whatever reason they kept slump off the side causing her to curse under her breath and toss her fork back down to the table.

"What is it?"

Hermione glared across the table at her unwelcome companion. Not only had she _not_ asked to be saved, her apparent savior was now trying to poison her with whatever the bloody hell he was trying to feed her. With brows furrowed, she shifted her eyes back down to her food and began to prod it once more.

Poke.

Poke.

Poke, poke, _poke_.

She heard the clatter of Theo's utensils against the wooden surface of the table startling her out of her head and back into reality.

"What the hell is it, Hermione?"

"Nothing."

"It's obviously something. You've been alternating between poking the shite to death and giving it such an intense stare I assume they'll burn any moment."

Hermione sighed, "What…why…is it supposed to…I don't know… _jiggle_ …like that? Wait…I can actually see my _reflection_ in this. Why is it so shiny?"

Theo had to restrain from rolling his eyes as the shear force he felt building up behind them would have given him a headache instantly. "Just eat the bloody food, Hermione."

"I may have _looked_ like I was giving up when you found me out there; but, honestly, I'm not ready to die yet."

Theo groaned, his forehead slamming into the palm of his hand. "Eat. The fucking. Food. I swear you're worse than a child."

Hermione tightly crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes squinting fiercely across the table. "No."

A thrill ran through her as she watched his thick, brown brows begin to furrow, his eyes beginning to show that glint she knew all too well as his lids began to narrow. She watched as his angular jaw – lightly dusted with hair – tightened and popped; her eyes caught on the rippling tendons. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips parted to allow his tongue to dart out for only a second, leaving a glistening surface in its wake. His hands ran through his dark strands of hair before fisting it at the nape of his neck. She certainly didn't whimper. Certainly not.

"Stop being a petulant little girl and eat it. I know it's not a fucking gourmet meal; but Merlin's saggy balls, Hermione, it's still bloody better than whatever meager sustenance you've had over the past year or so."

Hermione sighed her hands falling with defeat into her lap. She stared at the food for a moment longer before taking in a breath of courage and going for her fork once more. Carefully, she stabbed the pieces of yellow and shoved them in her mouth – chasing it with the glass of water Theo had so kindly provided. Waiting several seconds, taking note of any abnormalities that occurred, she finally came to the conclusion that Theo – although unintentionally, maybe – would not kill her today.

As she continued eating her rather poor semblance of eggs, she leaned her cheek against her other hand and stared at her now sulking ex-lover. "Who taught you how to cook? If you can even call it that."

Theo scowled, "You know, it's really not necessary to insult me every time you open your mouth."

Hermione chuckled, her lips dragging against the blunt points of her fork. "Now who's being the petulant little child, hmm?"

Theo succumbed to the urge to roll his eyes, his palms pressing tiredly into his closed eyelids. "Just, just stop. Please Hermione. It's been a long couple of days and I really just do not have the energy to entertain you with your little games."

Hermione's smile faded, her eyes clouding in thought. "You alright?"

Theo's shoulders lifted and fell carelessly. "Yeah, I will be. Now, to answer your question, Rosie taught me…although, you can see all her patient teachings haven't quite stuck with me."

Blue eyes tracked the suddenly stiff movement of his unwilling housemate and a devious grin began to tug at the edges of his mouth until it was shining on his face in all its glory. With a not-so inaudible sigh he rested his chin on the palm of his hand and looked into the other room with a dazed look in his eye. "Oh, Rosie. She was a lovely one, she was. So attentive with my wants and needs. She was a fast learner as well."

The loud screech of a fork dragging across a porcelain plate had Theo nearly falling out of his chair from laughter. Wiping tears from the corners of his eyes with the tips of his fingers he grinned fully at her. "What's wrong love? Jealous are we?" He watched as her left eye began to twitch with no small amount of glee. "Ooooh, we _are_. Look at that adorable pink blush staining those grubby little cheeks of yours."

With a snarl Hermione sent the fork flying toward Theo's face, only missing by a hair due to him quickly darting away from the sharp object. His near-death experience, however, did not have the intended reaction she had so hoped for. No. The twit continued to laugh at her expense. She frowned and glared so fiercely at the wall Theo could almost swear the wood was beginning to produce smoke.

"Bloody fucking hell, Hermione! Don't go falling arse over tit now. Rosie was my house elf!"

Hermione's poor attempt at controlling her ragged breathing allowed Theo the opportunity to position himself in his chair once more, trying oh-so-subtly to slide her plate towards him. The less objects she had to launch at him the better in his opinion. "I'm sorry for riling you up, that was unnecessary after everything you've been through; but I figured you needed a release and as sex is so obviously not in our foreseeable future anger was the next best option."

"Not ever."

Theo's brow quirked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sex is _not ever_ happening between us again. The sooner you get that notion out of your head, the better."

Theo shrugged, a small smile on his face. "Of course. Now. I know you don't want to talk about this; but, we're going to. We _need_ to. Whose blood did I have to clean off of you last night?"

Hermione snarled, her face pinched in disgust as the taste of bile hit her throat. "Why? Scared it was one of your precious friends?"

Theo sat in silence, his eyes softly flickering across her face – watching as her cheeks slightly drained of color. He sighed, "No, I'm afraid it was one of yours."

Hermione stiffened, "He wasn't my friend."

His head tilted slightly to the side, his brows slightly pulled together. "No, maybe not a _friend_ ; but you knew him and I'm willing to bet based on the state you were in not even an hour ago that the kill hit closer to home than you hoped it would. So, I'm not going to ask you again. Whose blood was it?"

Hermione's eyes fell to the old wooden table. Her cracked fingernails scraping lazily across its surface. "McLaggen."

"Ah. So it was one of your Gryffindors then. Makes sense."

"He was _not_ a Gryffindor."

"That's the House he was sorted into, yes?"

Hermione's palms slapped against the table surface, the slight sting going unnoticed as she stood from her chair and glared at Theo. "So the Hat sorted incorrectly. It can happen."

Theo leaned back in his chair, his legs extending and crossing at the ankles. "Name one instance. Just one and I'll let it drop."

Hermione racked her brain for the information. Her frustration growing with each passing second when it didn't just magically appear. Had the Hat ever been mistaken?

"Can't think of one can you? It's because it's never happened. That old, ragged hat was magically endowed to look within each student that passed through those great doors for their _core values_."

"No! Our House honored courage, bravery, nerve, and chivalry! He possessed _none_ of those. He was a _coward_ , a fucking rat. Just because he decided to show an _ounce_ of courage and remorse before his pathetic end does _not_ mean he was a Gryffindor."

"Doesn't it?"

"No! He deserved to die, Theo. He was more than happy to hunt me and my friends down. Enjoyed it like it was the best thing since the invention of Quidditch. The things he _said_ about me. I do not feel guilt. I am not sorry he died. I don't know what you hoped to accomplish from having this conversation; but I am _fucking done_ with it. I have been through too much these past three years for you to go spouting some psychological bullshite about how he was actually an innately good person who embodied all that is Gryffindor."

"I'm not disagreeing with you that he needed to die. We all had to do things, but he did find a certain _eagerness_ in some of the more carnal acts. With that said, you're lying to yourself about not feeling guilty. Your soul is broken and I don't need magic to see it. I see it in your actions, your body, in here…" he said, setting the palm of his right hand against the center of his chest. "Killing comes at a price, of which I know you're well aware of; and I know you're hurting inside. Whether he was your friend or just a Housemate, it still hurts you because the person _you_ _are_ can't just go around killing people without feeling _something_."

Hermione stared in silence, her bottom lip trembling and her eyes misting over. She would not cry. She. Would. Not. "I'm going to take a shower."

The hoarse whisper trailed behind her as she made her way to the bathroom, only being cut off by the harsh slam of the door meeting its frame. Theo sighed, his head cradled in his arms. He felt his heart racing wildly within his chest as he began to hear her quiet sobs even through the thick wood of the door. He knew what he did was the right thing, but Gods-be-damned if he didn't feel fucking guilty for it. With a growl, he pushed himself away from the table and walked to the bathroom door. He stood there, silently. Hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers. His fingers brushed against slick metal links and he sighed, his eyes closing as memories of times long past swamped him.

Times had changed and she had adapted to these new times. She was a survivor, a fighter; but even the strongest soldiers, he knew, would eventually break. He knew she would continue on this path she had ultimately set herself upon, there was no stopping that; but he could, and would, do his best.

With fingers clenching tightly around the links in his pocket and a silent prayer to the Gods, Theo made a promise right then and there.

He would continue protecting her, _loving her_.

He would save Hermione's soul.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Sorry for the delay! My computer got lost in a box in the move, but I have found it and we shall move forward! Enjoy loveys! xoxo

* * *

Hermione sat quietly on the slightly thread-bare carpet decorated with swirling patterns of color on her bedroom floor tinkering with the somewhat busted magical radio that had belonged to Ron. She had attempted sleep earlier on, but ultimately had awoken from her restless sleep overwhelmed with boredom and an incurable itch to do something – anything. With achy limbs, she fisted the fabric of her blanket and wrapped it closer around her body as a slight chill wracked her body. She knew she only had herself to blame as she had absolutely refused to leave the bath until every inch of her skin had been scrubbed over twice and her tears of frustration had dried. With a slight sniffle – her vision blurring causing the edges of the radio to haze – her mind began to shuffle through the recent events.

She should have been prepared for this possibility. How could she have not seen this as a possible outcome? Granted, she had assumed the twit had passed to the next life; but she was always one to prepare for the unexpected. _He_ was a truly unexpected outcome. How was it even possible that she could come face to face with him again? Face the man who knocked the very breath from her lungs and the strength from her knees? He had definitely transitioned from the overly-scrawny teenage boy he had been into the well-defined man he was now. He was not bulky by any means. His frame would forever be of the leaner sort; but, she had to admit, she much preferred the aesthetics of that form compared to the overly hulky body of say Viktor Krum. She was not so angry with him to ignore that he was beginning to light the flames within her soul as he once did. What frightened her most was that he hadn't even been back in her life for two complete days and he was already beginning to affect her. She wished she could blame the ghosts of attraction that remained behind to haunt her; but, she knew she had never quite left him behind that morning she awoke to find him missing, a note left in his stead.

She still had the note to this day, tucked within the deep confines of her purse, _almost_ forgotten, but never quite. She sighed as she pulled her purse closer and let her arm dive into the darkness. Her hand, working on what appeared to be a form of muscle memory, found the folded piece of paper within a minute or two and slowly withdrew from the beaded bag. Lifting her wand, she whispered a quiet _Lumos_ , the tip of the wood emitting a soft bulb of light, as she looked down upon the yellowing parchment. Lines creased the page, the ink slightly faded.

Amber eyes followed the script of flowing letters, he surprisingly had neat handwriting; which ultimately had been a blessing compared to the nearly incomprehensible scrawl of her two best friends. She swallowed past the new lump forming in her throat and held the tip of her wand closer to the page.

 _I know you are confused as to why I am not there, with my arms wrapped tightly around you, to wish you a good morning._

 _I know you have a hundred questions running rampant through that brilliant mind of yours and I hope to ease your worries._

 _Do you remember the first time we met? Not the petty little arguments between our Houses in our younger years; but, the first time we_ truly _saw one another. I do. It was out by that scrawny little tree near the Black Lake. You had fallen asleep, book slumped over on your chest, drool leaking from the corner of your mouth and into your hair. You had been talking in your sleep – something rather unintelligible about your elfish welfare cult. I had laughed and you startled. You opened those big brown eyes of yours, still lit with innocence, and stared up at me with a small smile. Unfortunately that smile changed and you launched into a lecture about spying on people – I still have a small mark on my shin thanks to the heel of your shoe. That was the first moment that I saw you. That I looked past that bushy hair of yours, past the pretentious attitude, and saw the real you. I would like to say that is the very moment I started falling for you._

 _We have made so many memories in this past year, ones that I shall never forget – the first time your hand brushed against mine, the first time my lips loved yours, the first time you fell asleep against me – your head resting heavily on my shoulder. Last night. I want you to know that last night was everything I'd hoped and dreamed it would be._

 _Those memories will forever burn within my mind and soul, keeping you close to me when I can't physically be next to you. This is something I have to do. It is the Fates' plan to have me take this path. Written since the day I drew my first breath. You cannot save me from this, but I can save you. Save you from the humiliation and pain you would endure married to someone as cowardly as me. Simply, save you. I will bitterly continue on with my existence, but know that I plan to be completely selfish with the amazing gift your love is, using it to help me through my darkest days._

 _So, this is my farewell._

 _My Hermione._

 _My Otter._

 _I love you._

 _Theo_

Hermione refolded the letter as she had done so many times before and tucked it away in her purse. Her eyes had long dried from the emotional strings the letter would once pull, but she held enough frustration and irritation within her the end of her wand sparked violently before going out. It would seem absence did indeed make the heart grow fonder. She launched her wand across the room and dug the heel of her palms into her eyes. Why had nothing changed since their last encounter? The quick pitter-patter of her heart when he was near, the simple joy in irritating him to bits, for Merlin's sake even that letter still held some power over her. It's not like he had been the last lover she had ever taken. There had been others; but, for whatever reason, he remained to stick around – to steal part of her heart in a way none of the others had.

Hermione grunted and dismissed her thoughts and returned her attention back to the radio. It didn't matter how her body was betraying her now, it wasn't going to happen again. They had both changed. He for the better it seemed and she, well, not so much. With a heave, she flopped herself onto her back and flung her arms across her eyes. Just as she was apparently on the edge of sleep, a knock sounded at the door. She ignored it. Shifting her bum to get a bit more comfortable on the floor – why she didn't just move to the bed was beyond her – she sighed in content.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

" _What?_ " she growled, her eyes squinting in irritation in the general direction of the door.

"I have to go for a bit. I've left some dinner by your door."

Hermione tried to hold back the bite of sarcasm that was clawing at her tongue like a rabid beast and succeeded, mostly. "Why? Did Daddy call? Best run off and be a good boy then."

"No, he didn't. For your information I need to run to pick up a few items. That is, if you'd like to continue to eat."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders carefully, feeling the small threads brush against the cotton covering her shoulders, before remembering he couldn't see her. "Whatever. It's not like I haven't been without before." Silence met her response and she sighed, "Alright, be safe."

She could hear him chuckle and she was seconds away from throwing something, anything. "Oh you do care. I'm touched. Alright, I should return in a couple of hours. Feel free to leave this bedroom of yours and explore if you wish; but the grounds are Unplottable so don't leave them."

"Yeah, okay."

She heard his retreating footsteps begin to peter off before rushing back. "Oh, one last thing, as a favor to me please stay out of my room. I know it's hard to control your curious tendencies, but, well, do try your best. I'll be back."

Hermione listened for the pop of disapparition and laid there for a few more minutes before darting up off the floor and out the door, nearly colliding with the actual plate of food Theo had indeed left. She quickly picked it up and began to eat bits of it as she padded around the cottage in her socked feet – a pair on loan from Theo as was much of her current outfit. As she munched on some buttered toast she looked through the shelves of books that lined one of the spare bedrooms. All muggle it seemed, which was fitting seeing as the previous owners were muggles themselves. With a small smile, she let her non-greasy fingers dance across the aged spines and sighed. She had books with her, but none were for simple recreational reading. She would definitely have the time to read one, or thirty, of these before she moved on. Leaving the room with a sense of forlorn, she stopped by the small kitchen and set her plate in the sink. She moved on towards the living room, noting it only had a small furniture set and a stone fireplace. She continued on her exploration until she came to a closed door. Figuring it was Theo's room she walked forward, slightly knocked back by the warning of the wards.

With brows furrowed and her eyes squinting she turned on her heel and marched back to her room. Turning on a lamp she looked around and found her wand lying on the floor against the wall. She quickly picked it up and jogged back to her destination. With her shoulders set in determination, her wand held loosely in her hand, she began to unravel the wards.

She would find out what, exactly, he was hiding in there.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** As a special treat for all of you sticking with me through my sporadic updates here is Chapter 10 a bit early. I hope you enjoy!

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Hermione could feel the sweat beginning to bead and slowly drip down the nape of her neck as she fought against the wards. What she had once thought such a simple task was proving to be quite the insurmountable one. She lowered her slightly trembling arm and dragged her left forearm across her forehead. She had been undertaking this task for the better half of an hour and had hardly gotten anywhere with it. With shoulders slumped in mild defeat and a heavy sigh falling from between her lips, she returned to her room and collapsed to the floor, grumbling obscenities the entire time. She _would_ make her way in there, she would. She just needed to form some sort of strategy to get around them. To feel for any soft spots within the fabric of magic that seemed to be endlessly layered.

 _What the hell did that man do for a living?_ She thought heatedly as she jabbed the tip of her wand at the radio, small sparks flying. She began to lightly cast spell after spell in a lazy attempt to fix the blasted thing, ignoring the faint rumblings of her stomach. She pressed the heel of her palm against the offending organ and looked up at the cuckoo clock that hung a bit off-center on the wall. Theo would be back soon she was sure, hopefully. Until then, she stood up once more and made her way back to the kitchen. It was as she was browsing through the meager offerings hidden away in the cupboards that the _pop_ of apparition sounded behind her, sending her adrenalin pumping like a herd of wild horses within her veins. With a swift turn on her heel, she sent her fist flying through the air, striking against the center of a chest plate – her knee soon following to make its home between the offender's legs.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU?! BLOODY BLEEDIN MERLIN. Oh, I'm going to be sick. Oh, may the Fates preserve me. Holy shite."

Hermione's hands flew up to cover her mouth, not absolutely sure what to do. She stuttered out a shaky _I'm sorry_ and _Reflex!,_ before bending over at the waist, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and guiding him to a seat at the table. She watched as his body slightly shook and he began to dry heave.

She quickly took a step back – she was _not_ about to clean _that_ up _._ Crossing her arms over her chest she sighed, "Honestly. You don't have to be quite so dramatic."

Theo's already wide eyes seemed to grow even larger as he stared up at her. "Dramatic? I'm being _dramatic_? Entering _my house_ and having my bollocks shoved _so far up_ my body they've now settled and plan to live the rest of their days out as ovaries is _not_ being dramatic. For fuck's sake, I think I'm dying. I need medical attention."

"You shouldn't sneak up behind me."

Theo grunted, his hand gently cradling his injured groin. "Again, it's _my_ house. Besides I told you this place was Unplottable. Why the hell would I share the location with anyone I associate with on a daily basis?"

Hermione shrugged carelessly, "I don't presume to know your business."

"Of course you don't, little twat that you are." Theo mumbled. Raising his voice only slightly enough to be heard clearly, he said, "Seeing as you aren't going to comfort me in my time of need. If you would be so kind as to put away the groceries while I recuperate from this traumatic injury, I'd so greatly appreciate it."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but did as she was asked. She truly felt bad for him as it _had_ been an accident; and from the unwanted stories Harry and Ron would share about Quidditch injuries, she knew it had to hurt something fierce. Nibbling her bottom lip, her mind went down a different path and began to devise a way to break into Theo's room. She couldn't find it in herself to give an utter shite on whether he discovered what she had done or not.

"What do you do for a living now? Besides licking the fungus from between your Master's toes and thanking him for the pleasure of it."

Theo gagged so strongly at the mental image he drew from her words that he quickly forgot about his nether pain and began to wretch in the sink. _What the_ fuck _was wrong with this woman?_ With a disgusted grunt and a hand dragging across his mouth, he glared fiercely across the room where Hermione stood, biscuit box in hand and a doe-eyed look drawn on her face.

"What?"

Theo snarled, "You just can't resist spouting these vitriolic comments can you?"

Hermione shrugged, "Well when I have an opening I do like to take it."

Theo slammed a cupboard door shut causing her to jump slightly in place. Wide eyes watched as he angrily stomped across the room and out of it – throwing himself down on the worn-leather of the living room couch. Hermione finished putting up the remaining items and slowly approached the seething man.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry – I mean I _did_ – but I didn't think you'd have quite this reaction."

Theo sighed and leaned his head back on the cushion. "I'm not angry. A little pouty? Maybe. Absolutely fucking disgusted, yes. Please do try to refrain from making such horrid mental images next time you open your mouth. Such disgusting things shouldn't leave a mouth as pretty as yours." Wink.

Hermione chuckled and gave a simple nod as she curled up in the adjacent chair. "Alright, but I really am curious. What is it you do for work?"

Theo smirked, "Curse breaker."

Hermione groaned, throwing herself back further into the chair. " _Of course_ you are. I should have known, seeing as how you always talked about it at Hogwarts. Well, I suppose a congratulations is in order. Where's the drink in this place?"

Theo pointed in the direction of a small trunk that had been pushed into a far corner of the room. With a hop in her step she approached the trunk and opened the lid, eyes peering curiously at the contents within. With a quick reach for the Firewhiskey and two short glasses, she made her way back to her chair and poured them each a decent size portion. With a single finger, she pushed his glass closer to him causing Theo to roll his eyes at her obvious attempt to avoid touching.

Taking his drink, Theo snickered and turned on his side so as to properly face her. "So I see you couldn't get past them."

Hermione glared, picking at her broken nails as if overcome with sudden boredom. "Possibly."

"Well, I suppose that will teach you to snoop, won't it? As I recall, I specifically told you to leave my room alone."

Hermione growled and took a surprisingly large gulp of the liquid, nearly choking as the severe burn coated her throat and lit her stomach. "You know damn well that you telling me that would have me salivating at the chance. You just wanted a reason to feel smug about the one thing you may exceed at. Well, bully for you mate."

Theo laughed and Hermione was entranced by how the light lit his face. _He should laugh more often_. She quickly shook her head side to side to rid herself of the thought. What did _she_ care if he laughed more often or how he appeared in a certain light that seemed to make his soul beam from within? She didn't. Not in the slightest.

Hermione awoke from her inner turmoil by Theo who had obviously said something – something scandalous if his devilish grin was anything to go by. "What?"

"I _said_ , I think we _both_ know there's more than this _one_ thing I'm good at."

Hermione sighed, her cheek resting against the palm of her hand. She stared across the small space between them in thought. "I promised to stop giving you nightmares, so how about you do the same for me, yeah?"

Theo smiled. "Whatever you wish."

Silence fell between them, their eyes connecting every few moments or so. Hermione could feel the insides of her stomach begin to squirm, as if a couple of puffskeins had been set loose within her. As she watched his muscles clench and ripple during his stretching, she could feel the burn of a blush – or perhaps it was the alcohol – beginning to stain her cheeks. That would simply not do. Forcing a yawn – and, yet, no force was needed – she removed herself from the chair and stood in place, setting her near empty glass on the wooden table. Their eyes locked, her breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth once, twice, but words failed her. She needed to go. Now.

"Well, I'm off to bed, I think."

Theo nodded, standing himself, ultimately bringing his body closer to hers. Hermione clenched her fists at her sides, forcing every ounce of her body to stay still. She thought she was going to pass out from lack of air as he seemed to move closer still and when his hand slowly reached out, gently brushing one of her stray curls from her cheek, she assumed her body would collapse any second.

His eyes scanned her face, taking in every nuance, every muscle twitch beneath the skin. Although she stood ragged and exhausted before him, she was still utterly breathtaking. With a swiftness he would have bungled up as a child he pressed his lips firmly against her forehead before jumping back and guarding his groin with a raised leg and his arms forming a barrier.

Hermione watched him, both dazed and more than slightly amused. Who knew all it took was a good kick to get him to be so well-behaved? With a small chuckle, she patted him on the shoulder – feeling his muscles recoil from her touch – and made her way to her bedroom. As she curled up in her bed, the blanket secured around her body, she buried her face in her pillow and let the brilliant smile she had been holding back flash within the darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's chapter 11…I'm sorry for the delay once again, I'm a horrible person I know; BUT, if it makes you feel any better, you'll get another peek inside Hermione's psychological state and we FINALLY discover what our darling Theo has been hiding. Enjoy loveys! xo

* * *

Hermione sat staring at the wall decorated in pictures and parchment all tied together with magically glowing strings of red that intertwined with one another in what appeared to be a chaotic pattern to the unknowing eye. She had begun this little project – and trying to break down those dreaded wards protecting Theo's room from her intrusion – in an attempt to preoccupy her time during the passing days so as to distract her addled mind from what had occurred nearly a week before. The dim light of the room, the burn of the alcohol slipping down her throat, the softness of his lips brushing against her forehead like a whisper of silk. She couldn't shake the thoughts and feelings that moment had evoked within her mind. Goose pimples peppered her skin, a chill running down her spine. She shivered.

Huffing, she furrowed her brow and continued to pace within the small confines of her room, her eyes never straying far from the pattern she had drawn out. What she needed now was a plan; unfortunately, that plan entailed her asking Theo for help, and she wasn't quite sure she was ready for that. Besides, how was she to know whether he was fully on her side? He could just be utilizing his Slytherin attributes to slither his way into her heart and learn her darkest secrets so as to destroy her.

She paused in her steps, her fists clenching by her side, her wild curls swishing from side to side as she shook her head. The gentle, yet harsh, whispers of doubt clawing their way into her mind like the talons of a hippogriff sinking into sopping earth. _Stop it, Hermione. This paranoia is going to be the end of you. Theo has told you countless times he's on your side._

Hermione twitched. _So what? He could just be acting the part of Romeo to get into your knickers one last time before sending you arse up to Voldemort._

Growl. _No. No. He wouldn't. The Theo I knew would_ never _have done that._

Sigh. _You also didn't think he would abandon you before you woke up that fateful morning…and yet…he did. What's that muggle saying again? Fool me once, shame on you…fool me twice…_

Hermione glared at the wall, the tips of her hair sparking as her magic flared with her self-doubt and anger – a surge of it arcing and colliding with the wall leaving a small black burn mark where Malfoy's face once hung. Satisfaction rolled over her in gentle waves as she watched the remaining ash fall to the floor.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

With a grunt, she approached the door, her hand taking the cool brass knob and turning. Brown met blue and she used every ounce of strength within her to hold in her sigh of pleasure – ultimately resulting in her sending herself into a coughing fit. She hitting her chest, he hitting her back. _Way to go, Hermione. Real smooth._

"You alright there love?"

Hermione coughed once, twice more before nodding her head and blinking away the tears. "Yes, just fine, thanks. Did you need something?"

Hermione didn't miss the slight waver of Theo's eyes as they glanced over her shoulder to quickly analyze her magical musings – and the scar of her magical temper tantrum. Taking a non-too-subtle step to distort his line of sight – not that it truly helped considering how he towered over her – she leaned her shoulder against the frame, arms crossing over her chest, and asked, "Did you need something?"

Theo stared quietly, Hermione physically feeling the sadness roll off him and crashing into her like angry waves beating the shores of the coast. A feeling – one she thought might be guilt – tightened in her stomach, turning it over and over as if she had eaten something quite spoiled. A grimace pulled at her lips as she shifted position and did her best to ignore that feeling. She didn't need him. Not yet, anyways.

Theo sighed, "Breakfast is ready."

With a final resigned glance her way, he turned on his heel and made his way silently to the kitchen. Hermione gently closed the door behind her, locking it with a charm of her making and followed her irritated housemate. As she neared the kitchen, the delicious scents of a good fry-up smacked her in the face causing her to moan in delight. It had been a week since Theo had found and rescued her – five days since whatever moment they had shared in that blasted living room – ensuring she was properly fed. She was sure she had managed to put on a pound or two at least and was becoming strangely addicted to his slightly-less-than proficient cooking. With a new sense of urgency she made her way to the kitchen to see Theo already sitting at the table with the _Daily Prophet_ open and folded over.

"So what corporal punishment is His Lordness inflicting today?"

Theo looked up from his paper and watched as Hermione took a seat across from him and began digging into her meal – spearing a sausage link with such ferocity he felt a slight tremor of fear for her delicate little plate. He returned his eyes back to the page. "He has been fairly silent lately. Which is slightly more ominous than hearing that raspy hiss of a voice. However, it has been reported that apparently after three days of searching, they have still been unable to find or recover Flint and McLaggen. I'm sure I'll be called in for questioning at some point during this investigation. The bastard always gets overly paranoid when shit like this happens."

Hermione chuckled and nibbled on a piece of bacon, cheek resting against a palm, and admitted nothing. "So what are your plans today?"

Theo turned the page after taking a sip of his cooling tea. "Well, unlike you, I have to go into work today. I've been working on unravelling this particularly nasty curse on a goblin artifact that was uncovered in one of the ancient Goblin Horde cities. The little fellows are paying me quite the sum for it."

Hermione grimaced, "I'm sure they don't appreciate being called _little fellows_ , Theo. I would hope that living with the scum of the earth hadn't tainted you so badly you lost all form of respect for those around you. After all, the Goblins may be considered lesser magical creatures; but they still deserve the same respect we humans do. I mean, look at all of their accomplishment over the cent-"

Theo laughed, his chest shaking with the force of it, as he closed the paper and set it beside his plate. "No need to defend them, Hermione. We are _all_ aware of how powerful they are. Why do you think they've been allowed to keep their status in society? Voldemort knows that exiling them alongside the others would have been a disastrous mistake. You don't think we actually kept them around solely for banking purposes did you?"

Hermione shrugged as she finished off the last few bites of her breakfast. "Who the hell knows what goes on inside the head of your comrades? I'd say their brains had rotted out years ago, but Voldemort did win the War so…there's obviously _something_ there – no matter how small that something might be."

Theo chuckled and finished off his tea before picking up his items and depositing them in the sink. He quietly turned around and leaned his backside against the counter. His eyes watching in amusement as Hermione devoured the last remains of her breakfast. He watched as she stood and began clearing the table, and laughed on a huff of breath as she approached him – her body tense. He waited as she drew closer and continued waiting as she seemed to decide on a plan of action to get around him. Thinking quickly, he took the various items from her grasp and set them aside. Grabbing her hands, he drew her closer, until he could feel the tips of her curls tickling the skin on his arms. He watched as her breath became shallow, catching in her throat at odd intervals.

"There's no need to be nervous, Hermione."

Hermione sighed, "I'm not nervous."

Theo smiled and nodded. "Sure. Now, I have to go into work and I won't be back until late tonight most likely."

She shrugged, a slightly shaking hand tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Alright. I guess I'll see you later then."

With a small smile she squeezed his hands and turned to head back to her bedroom. She heard the last few clinks of dishes as Theo set them to magically clean themselves before the soft _pop_ of him disapparating broke the awkward silence cloaking the house. Running the remaining distance to her room, she quickly unlocked her door and dove for her bed – tossing the blankets back and only getting tangled in them for a second. After several moments of frantic searching, she grabbed her wand and dashed back into the hallway and down to Theo's door.

With a new sense of determination, she raised her arm and began murmuring spell after spell to break down the wards. Sweat began to bead on her temples and drip down the base of her neck, her arms slightly shaking. She could feel she was close. Each day she had worked to break these wards, her hatred growing more and more until her feelings on the matter nearly surpassed those she felt towards Voldemort himself. He reset them every day, he knew exactly what she was doing and, yet, she continued to do it. After all, Hermione was not one to back down from a challenge.

Pushing more and more of her magic into her wand, she felt her body begin to shake. _Almost. Th-the-_ THERE!

"I bloody well did it." Shock overwhelmed her body as her arm fell lifelessly to her side. She had done it. She had _won_. The adrenaline of excitement and pleasure swept through her body, filling her to the brim – her heart raced, her eyes watered, her breath caught. Quickly, she reached for the knob and slowly pushed the door open.

Lifting her wand for one more bit of magic she watched as the lights flickered to life. Taking a step further inside, she scanned the room taking note of the quaint furnishings that obviously belonged to the previous owners. A mahogany chest sat against the far wall, the scratches of years of use evident from where she was standing. Thick carpet soothed her feet as she continued to peruse the room, her fingers trailing over a set of white wicker chairs that sat beneath the bay window – a delicate table dressed with a vase of slightly dying wildflowers sitting in between. She sighed a sense of dissatisfaction claiming her. She had spent countless hours to break into _this._

"Bleedin' fanny-fucker. Cock munching arsehole. I'll bloody well kill him."

She continued grumbling curses under her breath as she made her way back to the entrance – well, she would have, if her foot hadn't caught on the blanket that had fallen halfway off his bed. She slammed onto the floor, the soft padding only helping so much, her curses only growing louder.

"Fucking Christ, Theo. Can't manage to make your own fucking bed now that you don't have your bloody house elf? Fucking twat."

Jumping to her feet in a surge of anger she grabbed large fistfuls of the fabric and launched it back onto the bed. Glaring fiercely at the offending cloth, she kicked the bed for good measure and watched as a blue envelope fell to the floor. Her interest piqued, she bent forward and picked it up. Turning it over, she slipped her thumb under the wax seal – because _of course_ he had a wax seal – and broke it. She felt the rate of her heart began to pick up a bit faster as she unfolded the letter inside and felt it stop completely as something, of which felt _very_ similar to cold metal, hit her hand. Her eyes scanned the page rapidly, only finding one word written in Theo's neat script: _Alohomora._

Hermione's eyes darted down to her hand where she continued to stare wide-eyed and shaking. Resting in the palm of her hand lay a limp gold chain, with a small golden oval dangling from it. Lifting it closer to her face she noticed that there was a near-invisible seam. Quickly touching the tip of her wand to the necklace she thought the word and watched as the oval broke in two. Carefully sitting on the foot of the bed, wand resting in her lap, she used both her hands to spread open each side.

Words magically lifted into the air before her as the beginning melodies of their shared song began to play: _Even in the darkest of times, there is always a little light to help you find your way. I'll always stand by you. Happy Birthday, Hermione._

Hermione watched as the words faded and could finally see what was inside. Face contorting in an effort to fight back the oncoming tears, she stared down at the image of a honey badger jumping from his frame and curling himself around an already slumbering otter. With a choked sob, she clenched the piece of jewelry in her hand and crumbled on top of the bed.

That was how Theo found her hours later as he dragged himself to his room, eager for bed. He somehow managed to dredge up the last few ounces of energy to walk over to the bed and cover her more fully with the blankets. Brushing the curls that always seemed to find their way back to her face – honestly it was a miracle the girl didn't suffocate in her sleep – he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. With a quietly whispered _Happy Birthday_ , he made his way back to his bedroom entrance and slowly shut the door behind him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's chapter 12! Also, I promise to respond to each of your reviews! I know for the past few chapters I've been a bit slacking – my main goal being to get chapters out for you guys – but I shall do better! Enjoy loveys! xoxo

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Theo awoke to the banging and clattering of what he assumed was his cooking ware from the kitchen. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching until a satisfied groan escaped on a yawn, he slowly turned to plant his bare feet on the carpeted living room floor. Standing with the accompaniment of the solid cracking of his kneecaps, he made his way towards the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe. A smirk filled to the brim with utter amusement pulled at his mouth as he watched his frizzy-haired mess of a roommate scramble about, looking more and more harried as the time passed. Waiting only a few minutes more, he finally succumbed to helping her when he thought she was about to burst into tears over a couple of overly cooked eggs.

"Morning, Hermione. You alright?"

Hermione spun around, losing her balance in no small thanks to her socked feet, and hit the floor rather harshly with her bum. She could feel the intense burn of a blush scurrying up her neck and into her ears and a very embarrassed groan rattle in her chest. Quickly standing up and attempting to put her hair to rights, she gave a shaky smile and nodded her head.

"Fine. You?"

Theo smiled and nodded. "Just fine, thanks. What are you doing anyway?"

Hermione turned back to the stove in a flutter of hurried movements as she attempted to remove the frypan of now burnt eggs from the stove eye watching as the billowing black smoke begin to reach the ceiling. Blowing a curl out of her face with a huff of air as her fists rested on her hips, she scowled. "I was trying to make you breakfast as a thank you for putting me up and well, for… but, as you can see, I've gone and buggered the shite up."

Theo walked to the stove, removed the pan, and placed it in the sink – doing his very best not to breathe in the process. With a small flick of his wand, the air cleared of the burnt rubber scent and a new pan was set in its place. "And you say I was a bloody bad cook. Merlin, woman. What were you trying to do? Burn me wee cottage to the ground?"

Hermione glared, her vision nearly blacked out due to her severely squinted eyelids. "Aren't you just a belly-full this morning ya twit."

Theo chuckled and with another flick of his wand, the eggs cracked and poured into the pan – the slight sizzle matching the gentle sparking at the tips of Hermione's hair. "Why didn't you just use magic?"

Hermione shrugged and sat on a chair, her elbows resting on the scratched and worn table. "I figured it would be more meaningful if I made it by hand, but _obviously_ that didn't work out in my favor."

Theo let out a soft _hmm_ and took a seat next to her. "What's gotten into you this morning? I must say you've got me quite out of sorts right now. It's a bit too early to be in this much of a tizzy, yeah?"

Hermione sighed and diverted her eyes to her broken thumb nails – watching as her left picked at her right breaking it further until small beads of blood began to appear. Placing her thumb in her mouth, providing slight suction, she stayed silent for a moment and collected her thoughts on the subject. There was so much she wanted to ask – of course, there always was – but she knew she had to start somewhere.

"Why did you want me to break your wards down? And don't say that wasn't your intention, because you basically threw the challenge in my face."

It was Theo's turn to sit in silence as he thought about the best way to express his intentions on the matter. Hermione, however, did not hold the patience of a saint, so she quickly began to fidget while she waited. After what seemed like hours, Theo finally spoke.

"Over the past three years, I haven't been able to watch out for you on a daily basis nor as much as I would like. You're intelligent and quick and often times I would only catch glimpses of you. With each glimpse I caught, I witnessed this vibrant and beautiful woman turning into a battle-hardened and frail shadow of herself. With each month, with each _year_ , I saw you grow further and further from yourself. It certainly didn't help that you were alone more times than not and I know with each friend you lost the scars only cut deeper until your very soul bled." He paused, rolling his head back and forth on his shoulders. "When I found you in the woods – that was the worst I had ever seen you. I hadn't been able to find you for the past four months and then all of a sudden it's like the Fates just dropped you on my doorstep. You looked broken, so broken that I could feel my lungs begin to constrict as if my brain thought one shallow breath of mine would push you over the precipice into Death's clutches." Silence. "Watching you over the following days – watching you grow more into your old self and _healing_ – I came up with the idea of the wards. I know how competitive you are and how you thrive on puzzles and surpassing your peers – yes, don't deny it. You weren't top of the class every year solely because you wanted to prove your right to be there." He chuckled. "I wanted to give you an opportunity to strengthen and exercise your mind and magic in a way that didn't involve combative skills...more cognitive, so to speak. I wanted to give you an opportunity to reach for that old ambition of yours. To feel like _you_ again."

Hermione stared into the blue eyes of the man she had once held a love so fierce for that she believed it could never be broken. She had woken up that one fateful morning to find that, yes, it could be broken…but as she saw last night and during the early morning hours of today, it could not be _destroyed_. She could feel the once cold ashes begin to ignite with a burn that consumed her in such a comforting warmth it nearly brought tears to her eyes. Slowly, she brought a hand to her neck and removed the locket from beneath her sleep shirt. Eyeing it carefully, twisting the oval locket on its chain, she whispered. "You remembered my birthday."

Theo smiled, "As if I could forget."

"I did."

Theo froze at her too-softly-spoken words. Part of him had assumed she had forgotten as being on the run didn't really allow someone time to keep track of the days. Hideaways followed the rulings of the sun and the moon, not the days documented on a calendar made by man. He removed himself from his inner thoughts as he registered Hermione speaking once more.

"I forgot. I've found that I've forgotten a lot of things since we left Hogwarts. Some small, some large; but, mostly the good things, the _important_ things – the things that keep the memories alive. Like what shade of green Harry's eyes were or the feel of his crazy hair after Quidditch, the liveliness of a Weasley dinner and which twin was Fred or George, Remus' warm hugs and Professor McGonagall's smile when I had done something she was proud of. I've forgotten how it feels to just lay in the sun with an open book and a tree for shade and not fear for my life. I can't _remember_." She choked on a sob, her shoulders shaking gently as she tried to gather herself. "I can't remember them like I once did, Theo, and that bloody well terrifies me. What if I completely forget? What if this life completely consumes me and I forget them? My family? I'm so utterly broken, Theo. _I'm so scared._ " She whispered, her voice fractured with a sadness that was beginning to drown them both. "I'm scared that each morning I open my eyes and every night I lay to sleep it'll be my last. I'm terrified that…" Large tears rolled down her cheeks in ragged rivulets, the whites of her eyes now bloodshot, irises a vibrant amber. Theo inhaled sharply, something breaking off inside him at the sight of her so shattered. He watched her take in sharp, fragmented breaths; clenching his fists underneath the table so as to temper his immediate reaction of taking her into his arms. "I'm so fucking scared that I might have forgotten how to love and trust people." She paused as another heartbroken sob broke through her restraints and stared him straight in the eye. "I'm scared that maybe I'm so broken now, I can't love you the same way you love me and Gods-be-damned I do love you Theo."

Theo launched himself from his seat the same time she collapsed into his arms, the both of them falling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. With some gentle rearranging, he placed her in his lap and rocked her back and forth while she cried. He tried to whisper sweet assurances that everything would be okay, but his voice was nearly as hoarse as hers from his restrained tears that all he could do was mumble incoherencies into her thick bushel of hair.

His eyes bore figurative holes into the adjacent wall decorated in a slightly peeling floral print. The sight of the delicate blue flowers began to go in and out of focus as tears claimed him. He wished he could tell her that everything would be okay. Promise her that she would always remain safe with him; but they both knew that wasn't the reality they lived in.

They both knew this fantasy world they had created would not, and could not, last; but he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to live out the rest of their days in the best way possible.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's chapter 13! I tried to get this out as quickly as possible for you all so please forgive any missed edits. I hope you enjoy loveys! xo

* * *

The following days were spent in awkward silence, giddy smiles, and sweet caresses. Theo would cook her breakfast – Hermione had been banned from ever entering the kitchen unless she was sitting at the table since _that_ morning – and bring her breakfast in bed. Hermione would loosely wrap her arms around his waist from behind, peeking over his shoulder as best she could at whatever magical text he was reading at the time. Things had been going _really_ well, and it took everything inside of Hermione to not reject the idea of them being together – knowing that it was simply nerves and not having been in a _normal_ relationship with anyone for years. That's why every time she felt her anxiety rear its ugly, salivating head, she made sure to hug Theo just a little bit tighter – to make him smile just a little bit more.

Hermione thought all of this over as she sat on her bed, twirling her new locket mindlessly, waiting for Theo to come home from his dreaded visit with Voldemort. They had both known this would eventually happen. How could it not? It had been two weeks and still no one had found the whereabouts of Flint and McLaggen. She knew they never would. It would probably take Merlin himself to discover where they were; and unfortunately for good ole Voldie, Merlin was long dead in a _very_ unmarked grave. Hermione snickered to herself imagining how it would look for Voldemort to pull out his hair in frustration, she then chortled loudly when the image changed to snake-face wrenching out poor Lucius' hair. She nearly died right then and there. It wasn't long before her laughter was drowned by the all-consuming silence – the only noise being the gentle ticking of her bedroom clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

She would go insane if she listened to that any longer, she was sure of it. Thinking quickly, she pulled her small beaded bag into her lap and shoved her arm into its depths. Digging around for a short time, she finally grabbed ahold of the broken wizard radio and pulled with a satisfied grunt. Pushing her purse aside, she rolled up the sleeves of her button-down and proceeded to poke her wand into the thing. She had tried nearly every spell she knew to get the blasted thing to work – to no avail – and was quickly running out of ideas. Mentally pulling up texts she had read over the years she tried spell, charm, and curse over and over again. She was about to expire from boredom when all of a sudden she heard a strange noise.

Static.

Her eyes widened until they nearly appeared to be bulging. She had fixed it? Quickly pulling the radio closer, she began to twist and turn the knobs – somewhat hoping she would still be able to find some form of music. Surely not all entertainment in the wizarding world had fallen with the rise of Voldemort?

Twist. Static. Twist. Death Eater Propaganda. Twist. Twist. Static. Twist. Mudblood Hermione Granger…

Hermione rolled her eyes. She remembered the first time she had ever heard that bloody message. It wasn't long after the Battle of Hogwarts and she had secreted herself away for as long as she could in the secret passageway that connected Hogwarts to the Hogs Head. It had echoed through the tavern walls – and a chill, as if Dementors had descended upon her, overtook her body.

 _WANTED FOR CRIMES AGAINST WIZARDING BRITAIN: MUDBLOOD, HERMIONE GRANGER. APPROXIMATELY 18 YEARS OLD, BROWN HAIR, BROWN EYES. CRIMES INCLUDE, BUT NOT LIMITED TO: REBEL OF THE DARK LORD REGIME, IMPERSONATION OF A PUREBLOOD, THIEVERY, AND MURDER. IF SEEN, ELIMINATE ON SIGHT. A REWARD OF ONE-HUNDRED THOUSAND GALLEONS WILL BE ISSUED TO WHOMEVER PROVIDES THE MUDBLOOD'S HEAD TO HEADQUARTERS._

The broadcast had repeated the same message over and over, Hermione's ears tuned into it until it was washed out by the sounds of her anguished sobs. She had thought she would have died soon after, with such a ridiculous bounty on her head – literally – but she had proved harder to catch than they had thought. She smirked at the recollection of foiling each of their attempts to put her down like a rabid beast and instead returned the favor with success. Sighing, she continued to turn the dented knob, nearly giving up when a distorted sound began to emit from the speakers.

She strained her ears to listen more fully, turning the knobs in small increments. Finally, she managed to make out some of the garbled sounds emitting from the speaker – sounds she was wholly unprepared for. The message continued to replay on repeat, her hands quickly reaching for a piece of parchment and the muggle ink pen she had found hidden at the back of her nightstand drawer. Scribbling like her very life depended on it and listening four more times, she finally managed to have the whole message written down – a mangled mess of random spells it seemed - and staring up at her in glistening red ink.

Lumos Accio Scourgify Tergeo Reparo Episkey Sonorus Incendio Stupefy Tarantellegra Aguamenti Nox Confringo Evanesco Waddiwasi Expulso Flagrate Impervious Glisseo Homenum revelio Tarantallegra

Her eyes bore into what she had written down, unknowing of how her hand had drifted up to tug on her right earlobe as she chewed on the end of her ink pen. She mulled the information over and over, grunting in frustration and nearly launching the pen across the room. She sighed, closing her eyes, and counted down from ten. Reopening, she glared down at the paper praying for some kind of divine intervention. When none came, she held the paper out further, brought it in close, turned it sideways, upside down – every which way. Just as she was about to crumble the offending piece of nonsense her brain tuned into the message once more. Listening carefully, she began to notice a very subtle pattern. The beginning of each spell was accentuated _just enough_ to be picked up on if one was truly paying attention.

Her pen began to fly across the page sorting out the words and pairing them together whenever a noticeable pause occurred. After several moments, sweat beading her forehead and a subtle twitch beginning in her left eye, she finally figured it out.

LAST RESISTANCE. WE FIGHT.

Hermione's mouth fell open on a gasp, her pen falling to the wrinkled sheets beneath her.

" _Fucking shite."_ She whispered on an exhale. " _Holy_ _fucking shite!"_

Jumping up with newfound excitement and no small amount of confusion, she began to pace the length of her room. There were still people out there who were _alive_ and fought against this new order. Of course she knew Voldemort and his minions couldn't have taken out _everyone_ ; but, for them being able to find one another and form a _group_ was completely inconceivable. Her eyes moved towards her wall decorated in the hierarchy of Death Eaters who had made her kill list and paused. Should she stop and put her energy into finding these rebels? Forget all she had done thus far? What would she tell Theo? _Should_ she tell Theo? Would knowing a rebel cell still exists in the world put him in more danger?

Hermione growled out her frustration, her hands knotting in her curls. She didn't know what to do and _that_ was not something she was used to. On one hand she wanted to protect Theo from anymore danger; but, on the other, she knew he would be angry with her for keeping something this _extraordinary_ a secret. After what felt like hours of mulling over her options, she heard the faint pop of Theo reentering the house causing her to launch herself towards her wand – sending a stronger than intended shock towards the radio resulting in his completely shutting down. As his footsteps neared her open doorway, she quickly _Vanished_ the paper with her writings – ensuring all evidence of her new discovery were well taken care of.

Patting down her mess of hair, she skipped to the doorway – nearly breathless – and stuck her head into the hallway with a smile. That smile quickly faded when she saw the state he was in. His hair was singed, his robes torn to shreds, his skin cut so badly it hung off him in tatters. Bile rose in her throat and entered her mouth as her eyes continued to scan his injured body. Blood coated him from head to leather shoes.

Rushing to his side, careful to not put too much pressure on any one part of his body, she escorted him into her room and onto her bed. Taking her wand once more, she began to dispose of his bloodied clothing and tried to stem the blood as much as possible.

"What did they do to you?!" she screeched, apologizing immediately as she saw Theo flinch from the high octaves.

"Typical interrogation by Snape. The bastard thought using that blasted spell of his would force me to fess up to anything I might know about your whereabouts or those of Flint and McLaggen. I suppose he took some sympathy on me – if you can call it that – and managed to find it in himself to heal me _just enough_ so I wouldn't die right then and there."

Hermione could feel her anger beginning to ignite once more. The flames intertwining and licking her very soul. Sparks infused her curls and black overtook her vision. Fists clenched until knuckles were white, hands shaking. Once amber eyes changing into a deep, dark brown. With a growl so feral Greyback would be proud, she shoved her wand in the general direction of the magically mapped wall and sent a curse so strong at Snape's picture it, and that portion of the wall, completely disintegrated.

"Whoa, love. Try not to burn our home down, please. Now, if you don't mind, I could use a bit of that healing magic you're so good at."

Hermione tried to reign herself in as best she could before even _thinking_ about pointing the tip of her wand in Theo's direction. Once successful, she kneeled beside him on the bed and began to carefully mend him back to normal. It took some time, but she eventually got him to a point where he was able to fall asleep without too much discomfort. Listening to his soft breathing and gentle snores, she wrapped her arms around his bandaged torso and buried her face into his chest.

Tears burned her eyes behind closed eyelids. Her mind, body, and soul raged against the injustice against Theo because of her actions. The faces of her enemies flashed before her mind's eye in dizzying blurs – all seemingly taunting her with their bone-chilling cackles. It was in that moment that she decided that, no, she would not tell Theo about the rebel faction she had accidentally uncovered today.

Why waste her time hunting down people who could be extinct in the morning?

No, she had much more important people to track down and she would fucking _annihilate_ them.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's Chapter 14! I'm not _too_ pleased with how it turned out, but if I overthink it anymore I'm going to stress myself out. Also, I've had a couple of ideas for two new stories – I won't post them probably any time soon as I'll need to properly plan them out – but I'd like your thoughts on which to do next. The ideas are: magical creature or a four-horsemen type fic. Just let me know! Enjoy loveys! xo

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Theo awoke groggy, the irritatingly sharp edges of crystallized sleep digging into his already bloodshot eyes. Restraining a groan as best he could, he rapidly blinked the nuisances away until his vision cleared. What he saw was his bossy little witch doubled over a desk scribbling furiously. Keeping quiet – not that it would have disturbed her in any way – he let his eyes wander over her backside, from the crown of her head all the way down to her tapping, sock-clad feet. A sense of pride blew through him like a summer breeze – both warming and cooling at the same time. She was slowly returning to her formal self because of _him_.

A smile began to creep into his face causing slight cramping in his cheeks; however, as soon as it had found its home, it quickly began to disintegrate as his eyes flickered over her magical musings dangling on the wall. Red threads of magic intertwined with one another in fluid movements – all finding a tip pinned to a moving photograph apparently cut from newspapers. From where he lay, it was hard for him to decipher each picture that hung in silence; but, he was able to decipher the ones she had already disposed of as they were marked out with burn patches disfiguring their faces – the once red twine now a very dull black. His eyes continued upward and noticed that apparently she only had three top-tier Death Eaters left on this list of hers, a trinity of sorts: Dolores Umbridge, Draco Malfoy, and Severus Snape.

Looking a bit more intensely, his eyes squinting slightly, he saw that Snape's unattractive mug had been moved recently. If he had his guess about it, the rotten viper had been promoted to the top of his lover's kill pyramid in no small thanks to him and the state he had come home in. With a sigh, Theo decided it was probably best that he alert her to his wakefulness so she could explain whatever the hell it was she was currently planning.

"Hermione?"

Scribble. Scribble. Scribble.

"Hermione."

Scratch. Scratch. Scribble.

" _Hermione!_ "

Nothing. Theo growled quietly to himself and grabbed the pillow Hermione had obviously stolen from him at some point during the night. He launched the pillow across the room and watched as it smacked into the back of her head. He had only a moment to snicker before he felt his bollocks begin to shrivel up inside him as he watched her forehead nearly smash into the desktop. Quickly trying to imitate feeling more ill than he truly was, burying himself further into the safety of his blankets, he watched as Hermione whipped around – the tips of her hair flying in all directions – and sent him a glare fit for an icy death.

It wasn't until her brain caught up with itself did she realize it was only Theo and her demeanor instantly changed. Rushing over to his side, patting him down gently, she asked, "How do you feel? Let me inspect your wounds. Are you hungry? Would you like breakfast? I'm sure I can coo-"

Theo shook his head so hard in the negative he felt as if he'd given himself whiplash. "NO!" he practically shouted, pointing an only _slightly_ shaking finger in her direction. "It was agreed that you would no longer step a single stubby toe in that kitchen with the intention of cooking."

Hermione frowned, brow scrunched, as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I do _not_ have stubby toes."

Theo shrugged, "Sure, love. Now, I'm doing well enough – in no small thanks to your beautiful healing my darling – to manage getting something on my own when I need it. What I _do_ want, is for you to explain whatever nonsense you've got posted on that wall of yours."

Hermione turned her head to look over her shoulder. Thinking quietly to herself she wondered how best to explain what she planned to do. She obviously knew he wouldn't agree to it; but, then again, he was always an ear of understanding in their younger years. Nibbling on her lower lip, she sighed, and removed herself from the bed.

She cleared her throat once, twice, three times as she thought on where to begin. Her mind recognized that it was time for Theo to be included in her plans; however, her heart was whispering harsh words of doubt that left her feeling an icy anxiousness deep in the pit of her soul. Her hands began to clench and unclench her cold fingers as she nervously paced the room – Theo waiting patiently for her to collect her thoughts, his eyes never leaving her. Hermione stared back at him once more to be greeted with an encouraging smile. Taking a deep breath, she slowly approached the wall, her eyes dancing over the various items that covered it. At the sound of Theo clearing his throat, his patience surely running out, Hermione nodded sharply and turned on her heel to face him.

"Alright. So. Where to begin?"

Theo chuckled quietly, gently resting a hand over his left-side ribcage. "How about from the start, love."

Hermione tilted her head from side to side, feeling the overly tense muscles in her neck stretch in such a glorious way she nearly moaned her pleasure. "Okay, I guess I should begin with what happened during what was supposed to be our seventh year and move forward from there." Pause. "After Dumbledore passed away, he left some items for Harry, Ron, and myself in his Will. Harry received the very first snitch he caught during his first Quidditch game, Ron was gifted a deluminator, and I got a children's fairytale book. We were confused as to why these specific items were left to us; however, it wasn't too unusual as Dumbledore was never the most straight-forward wizard. So, we accepted these gifts – after we were interrogated by the Minister about them – and went about our days. It wasn't until the reception of Bill and Fleur's wedding did things change."

She shakily wiped her sweating palms across the rough denim of her jeans, taking a couple steadying breaths before continuing. "I grabbed Harry and Ron and left immediately. We continued jumping from place to place, fighting off those that hunted us, and tried to figure out what to do next. That's when we discovered the horcruxes. It made perfect sense, honestly. Someone who felt so very entitled _would_ do something as terrible as create a soul fragment so as to live for eternity. We spent that year hunting them down – with little to no success for months. Eventually, as you probably know, we were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor. I was tortured, everyone was tortured – we won't get into that bit, doesn't matter now anyway."

"We managed to escape thanks to the brilliant actions of Dobby, Malfoy's former elf. Afterwards, we carried on with our hunt and eventually the time of the Final Battle came round. They were like wraiths in the night, appearing quickly and with great force. I remember getting separated from Harry and Ron, trying to fight my way through the obscene darkness the Death Eaters were cloaked in. That's when I came across Antonin Dolohov." She paused, her chest tightening. "You knew me then, I didn't think it was in me to kill. I was more fond of books than death; but, I saw him…I _heard_ him trying to use the same curse he threw at me during our fifth year. The one that cursed my body with that hideous purple scar. I remember my eyes sliding to the left just enough to see Ginny lying haphazardly in an unmoving lump and…and…that's when I finally broke. I took his life, without care, without any sense of guilt. I watched as his blood, which should have been as dark as his very soul, pour from his body from every natural opening until he was nothing more than a shriveled corpse – staring blankly up at me."

"He was my first kill, that deciding moment in my life that had pushed down this path. It only got worse as I watched Harry die, then my friends. I found innocuous places to hide – secret tunnels, caves, abandoned buildings – anywhere to survive. Shortly thereafter, they released a bounty on my head, making it that much harder to live. It was in that beginning year or so that I thought I would meet my end, they assumed it as well; but miraculously I survived. I took out who I needed and made sure to move hiding spots frequently. Occasionally, I would run into Order members; but, they eventually were taken out – as you know. For a long time I blamed myself. If they hadn't of been spotted with me, maybe they would have been able to get away with their lives. It was hard to come to terms with the idea that the Fates simply had other plans for me – forcing me to continue. It wasn't until several months ago that I finally decided I needed to do something. I mean if I was going to die – which death _always_ catches up with you – then I was going to leave this life taking as many of those evil bastards with me."

Hermione glanced in Theo's direction and saw him listening patiently, a light glistening in his eyes. She quickly looked away from him or else she would break and not be able to tell him everything he needed to know.

"I devised a kill list, if you will, of everyone who had ever wronged my family or myself. I started out small, killing off lower ranked Death Eaters simply because they were in my way. There were so many deaths I eventually lost track, my soul not willing to acknowledge what I was really doing, to acknowledge the fact that I was _no better_ than the evil I was fighting. Before long, I was down to my top three offenders." She paused and pointed to the last remaining photos on the wall, giving Theo enough time to take in everything she had just unloaded on him.

Theo sat quietly and let his eyes rake over the wall before flickering over to his anxiously waiting witch. He gave her a small nod to continue, reclining further into his pillows.

"It was just before you found me in the woods that I killed again. I hadn't intended for it to happen, but as it would seem the Fates had other plans. I had just been going out to stock up on some more food when I saw Malfoy, Flint, and McLaggen standing outside. Apparently, they've adjusted the magical tracking system and were able to locate my hideout because of it. They didn't know it was _me_ in there, but it didn't seem to matter. Malfoy soon left as he had _other_ things to take care of, leaving those two buffoons to _take care_ of me, but to leave me intact enough to be _returned_ to him. I was so disgusted I lost sense of all things around me. That's when I _Vanished_ Flint and knocked out McLaggen."

Taking a shaky breath to dismantle the growing nausea building in her stomach, she continued with the final half of her story. "I tortured McLaggen for information on Malfoy. I cut him up without hesitation, felt my body and mind thrive as he cried, as I watched him break, giving me all the information I needed to take out the platinum haired ferret. After I killed him, I took his body…" tears burned her eyes as she remembered the scene of his burial, remembered the immense sense of guilt that had completely overtaken her body, "and, well, after that I began running. I disaparated from place to place until finally my body gave out. That's when you found me and brought me here."

Theo nodded slowly, a hand lightly running across the stubble that was appearing on his jawline. "Okay, well, that's a lot more information than I expected to wrangle from you today. I have some questions, and I'm going to need you to be honest with me."

Hermione nodded with a new sense of excitement. Maybe he would be more understanding than she originally thought. She smiled, spreading out her hands to invite him to continue.

"What exactly did those three say that had you so disgusted?"

Hermione froze.

 _Shit._


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's Chapter 15! I was struggling in writing this chapter as I couldn't quite write down what I wanted to say; but it's funny how being traumatized by watching ghost shows before bed can really motivate you! LOL. I'm not completely satisfied with it, but it'll do. I hope you enjoy! xo

* * *

"What did they say, Hermione?"

Hermione began to pace beside the bed. Partially sweaty fingers twisting around one another until she felt as if her knuckles were beginning to cramp. Her mind tried to frantically piece together something, anything, to tell him. "I…it's…um…"

Theo sighed, his irritation with the situation beginning to grow. He rubbed his closed eyelids with lightly clenched fists and tossed his head back against the delicate headboard. "Why can't you just bloody well tell me what they said, Hermione?"

Hermione growled, "It's not that simple!"

"Well it's not that fucking difficult either! So why don't you cut the shite and just – fucking – tell – me!"

"They wanted to _rape_ me, Theo! McLaggen wanted to take me without my consent and carve his name into me…as if I was his _possession_ and then, to top it off, Draco _ordered_ them to drop my body off in his bed – because, according to McLaggen, the platinum ferret is so _obsessed_ with me he has to dress up his whores to look like me or else he can't fucking get off. All of this _after_ they had a debate on who in their fucking mind would ever want to be with someone like me. So. Are you bloody satisfied now you overly-persistent arse?" Hermione borderline shouted – her chest heaving with ragged breaths as she glared through tearful eyes.

Theo blinked – once, twice – his face a portrait of stillness that teetered on the edge of eerie. Hermione watched as the finer muscles in his jaw rolled underneath his skin, his biceps rippling as tension ran through them. She was fascinated as he seemingly took on the role of a predator readying himself for the hunt. Worry began to set in as the silence that blanketed the room began to thicken and wrap them in a cloak of oppressive energy. Just as she was beginning to open her mouth to ask if he was alright, he broke the silence for her.

"So, did you ever discover what that spell was that Dolohov was so fond of?"

Completely confused by his redirection, Hermione sat down next to him on the bed. "Unfortunately, no. I've been researching it since fifth year and I've yet to come across it in any of the texts I've been able to get ahold of since Hogwarts. My assumption is that it's tremendously dark magic created by an ancestor of his. It doesn't help that when he tried to cast it on me I had already silenced him and the Battle was too loud, too chaotic, for me to really understand what he was trying to say – I just recognized the wand movements. I've kind of given up on it as it hasn't seemed that important compared to everything else."

Theo nodded slowly, his eyes never losing that strange intensity. Hermione felt on edge as she watched his body shift next to her, the fight-or-flight response nearly taking over her body. Logically she knew he would never do anything to her, but the energy he was currently emitting was more than unsettling. She began to fidget as silence once again overtook them. She wanted to ask why he wanted to know, but something inside her warned her against it. She also wanted to grab for her wand in the off-chance that something _did_ happen, but she mentally scolded herself and stilled the urge.

Her eyes shifted to the floor, to the ceiling, back to the floor as she waited for him to ask – say – anything else. This had to be the most awkward conversation she had ever partaken in, and she definitely took part in some awkward conversations. A flash of a memory of speaking with Harry about some interesting… _changes_ …had her both cringing and internally cackling at the same time.

 _"_ _Hermione! Hermione!"_

 _Hermione looked up from the charms text she was currently reading with tired eyes. "Yes, Harry?"_

 _Harry with his ruffled hair and slightly askew glasses slumped down in the chair across from her. "What are you doing?"_

 _Hermione raised a single brow, her eyes only shifting to the open book for a second before ink-stained fingers pushed it aside and intertwined atop the scattered parchment that layered the wooden surface of the table. "What I'm always doing Harry. What are_ you _doing?"_

 _He smiled nervously, shifting in his seat from left to right. Hermione leaned her cheek against the palm of her hand and waited, fingers tapping lightly. "Harry, I love you, but I_ am _busy. What did you want to talk about?"_

 _She watched as a scarlet blush bloomed in his face, his ears brighter than the rest of him. Her interest was immediately peaked, resulting in her leaning forward in eager anticipation to see what exactly had him so riled._

 _Harry growled in frustration and buried his chin into his chest as he mumbled whatever it was he said. Hermione frowned and strained her hearing as best she could. "What? Harry you're mumbling. What is it? Is something the matter with you and Ginny?"_

 _Harry paused then shook his head. "Well, no, I…yes? Maybe…"_

 _Hermione sighed in frustration as she continued to stare at her friend who was making the least amount of sense at the moment. "Just spit it out Harry."_

 _"_ _She wants to have sex!" Harry nearly shouted, his hands immediately coming up to slap over his mouth and his eyes darting around for the infamous guardian of the library, Madam Pince. Fortunately for him the old crow must have been in another section of the library, probably ranting at another unfortunate soul._

 _It was now Hermione's turn to fiercely blush, the warmth of it nearly causing her to sweat. "W-what?"_

 _Harry cleared his throat, his nervousness evident. "We…we were…kissing…and…uhm…she wanted to go further…you know?"_

 _"_ _Y-yeah? So…what seems to be the…problem? Wouldn't…wouldn't one of your male friends…uhm…be better at helping you with this?"_

 _Harry felt as though he would expire on the spot, the probability of his organs melting from the heat that had claimed his body was high. "Well…you see…no…" he paused, a hand reaching up to rub the tense muscles in his neck, the other pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No, they can't…because…I…I think….they're_ _the problem_ …"

 _Hermione's brows scrunched in confusion. "What? How so?" She paused and then realization seemed to smack her in the face like a bag full of books. "OH!" she shouted._

 _Harry grimaced at the pitch of her sudden grasp of the situation and nodded. "Yeah…"_

 _"_ _Oh, Harry…so…so you…why do you think…? She just may not be the one who…who can…_ do _…it for you. That's all." Hermione prompted._

 _Harry sighed and dropped his hands to his lap. "There's really no thinking about it…I…I don't get a…_ reaction _…or rather much of one when I'm with Ginny…"_

 _"_ _Oh…well…there's absolutely_ nothing _wrong with being…"_

Hermione was ripped from the awkward, yet endearing, memory as Theo's voice began to register within her brain. From the irritation that was clearly beginning to show on his face, she assumed this wasn't the first time he had asked this particular question.

"So what's your plan for those three?"

Hermione turned to face her wall of information more clearly and grunted, trying to gather her thoughts back to the situation at hand. "Umbridge will be easy. I was tailing her whenever I got an opportunity. It's not like it was too difficult. That toad's ego is fuller than Malfoy's hair."

Theo snorted, his emotionless facial expression slightly cracking. "How will attacking the Minister be easy?"

Hermione shrugged, "She's overly confident, proud. Her goal, I've noticed, is to flash that shiny little badge of hers to her lessers…to remind them of who she is and the power she holds over them."

"Be that as it may, how do you plan on getting ahold of her? Better yet, what do you plan on doing with her once you have her?"

"Well, getting ahold of her will most likely be the most difficult part. Being out in the public eye is a double-edged sword. On one side there isn't as much security to worry about; but, on the other, there is always someone around. As for what I'm going to do with her…" Hermione paused, her eyes flashing in anger. "I'm simply going to return a favor on Harry's behalf."

Theo's brows raised in question, but was left unanswered as Hermione seemed to disappear inside her head. With a gentle nudge to her side he brought her back to this reality. "Alright, so, she I understand. It's possible with a well-devised plan; however, Malfoy and Snape will be more of a challenge. Malfoy is always surrounded by his little fan-club or too busy getting his prick wet and Snape never emerges from his dungeons unless called out by Voldemort himself. They're also _very_ dangerous targets Hermione. Have you truly thought this through? Don't you think you've fought enough?"

Hermione could feel her face tightening. "Well of course I know it's dangerous. I'm the furthest from stupid, Theo."

"Yes, Hermione, I know you're an intelligent witch. There's no questioning that; but, have you honestly thought all of this through? You've just targeted the three most influential people in this new world of ours and you expect…expect what exactly? You won't come out of this unscathed. You forget that I've lived this life practically since birth. I _know_ what those three are capable of – I know the power they wield – and, honestly, I don't think you'll survive it."

Hermione sat quietly, glistening eyes staring unseeingly at the patterned carpet beneath her feet. Lower lip trembling, her mind repeating Theo's words of doubt, triggering her own: frustration, anger, and a deep-seeded sadness caused by that all-too-familiar feeling of being inferior brought fresh tears to her eyes. She knew he wouldn't take what she had to say – what she had planned – well, but she certainly didn't expect him to doubt her abilities… _her_.

Clearing her throat, she tried to remove herself from the bed but was stopped by Theo's arms wrapping themselves tightly around her waist and brought her closer until she was nearly laid on top of him. She struggled for only a moment before succumbing to his warmth and buried her face into his chest. He planted a firm kiss atop her frizzy curls and inhaled deeply.

"Hermione, there's no need for you to get upset. Yes, I believe you won't be able to do this…"

Hermione growled, "You don't have to repeat yourself. I heard how much faith you have in me the first go round."

Theo chuckled. "You heard me, and yet you _didn't_ hear me."

Hermione raised her head, a scowl tugging at her face. "Stop being cryptic, Theo."

Theo smiled, "I'm _saying_ that _you_ can't do this…alone."

Hermione stared wide-eyed into Theo's blue eyes in shock. "What?"

"For someone who thinks so highly of their intelligence, you sure aren't grasping this very quickly are you, love?"

Hermione glared playfully before practically crawling up his body and planting her lips on his. She sighed as she felt his hands drift down from her waist to the top of her bum, bringing her ever closer. Once dry lips quickly became slick as their mouths and tongues fought for dominance. Her hands found harbor within his thick locks of hair, fisting the strands tenderly as she turned his head just so allowing her to move in closer. She had missed this. Missed _him_.

Slowly withdrawing from him with a final press of lips, she smiled. "Are you sure about this?"

Theo nodded and buried his face within her neck, his teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. "About what, exactly? Ravishing you? Absolutely. Going on a crazy-arsed mission that will most probably result in our deaths? Eh, not so much; but, we're a team…and I won't let you go this alone, love."

Hermione laughed softly and cupped his face with the palms of her hands, bringing his face back up to where it was level with hers. She stared into the dark blue depths that were brimming with his passion and love for her. How she had gotten so lucky, she wasn't sure; but wasn't going to second guess it this time. No. This time she was going to live in the moment, in however many days the two of them had left together.

With a teasing little grin and not a second thought, she leaned in and sealed the remaining distance between them. One final thought claiming her mind before bliss overtook her:

 _It was good to be home._


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's Chapter 16! I'd first like to say thank you for all of the lovely reviews. They absolutely make my day knowing you're enjoying this story as much as I am writing it. Now, I've been asked about when the time-travel will be happening. Part One of this story will come to a close on Chapter 20. We've still got to get through a couple more bloody, vicious deaths before Hermione takes her trip in time. I promise we will get there – I hope you stay with me! Lots of love. xo

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"So according to my sources, Umbridge will be attending the Halloween Ball hosted at Hogwarts on the thirty-first. That will be the best opportunity, I believe, as attacking her in the Ministry is near impossible and we need a date out far enough to ensure the Polyjuice is completed in time."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she checked over the list of ingredients that Theo had procured for her earlier that morning. "I didn't realize Hogwarts still celebrated such trivial things after their little communist regime took over."

"It's intended to show the public how Hogwarts and its students have prospered since the takeover and other such tripe."

Hermione let out a quiet _hmm_ before looking up from her cauldron, a single brow quirked in astonishment. "Is that what he's told them?"

Theo shrugged a shoulder lazily. "Yeah and the simpletons believe it. It's really Voldemort's way of keeping track of everyone who claims they're loyal, the paranoid bastard that he is; however, he's right to question them. It's amazing what some people relinquish after a few rounds of expensive whisky."

Hermione nodded in agreement as she added the crushed lacewing flies to her gently bubbling mixture. Using her wand to lower the temperature, she waited for the required thirty seconds before casually waving her wand over the top of it and reached for the next ingredient. As she measured out the boomslang skin to add to the mortar, she asked, "Have you determined who I'll be impersonating?"

Theo looked away from the war wall and over his shoulder, "Yes, actually, her assistant."

Hermione cringed, "Please tell me I'm not going to have to act the simpering fool. I don't think I can stomach kissing that woman's wart infested feet."

Theo laughed deviously, causing Hermione to look up with a look of both concern and dread. "What? Who is it?"

"Guess."

Hermione scowled, her hands fisting and resting on her hips. "Who. Is. It?"

Theo sighed in displeasure, his eyes seemingly inspecting his nails for any presence of dirt. "You're no fun, love."

"Who the bloody hell is it, Theo?"

"Pansy Parkinson."

The screech that emitted from the inner depths of Hermione rivaled that of a disgruntled owl who had been rudely awoken from its slumber. Theo quickly clapped the palms of his hands over his ears, a wince of pain tugging at his face.

"Merlin's saggy bollocks, witch! Was that absolutely necessary?"

Hermione quickly finished dumping the remaining ingredients within the potion, ensuring it reached a rapid boil for twenty seconds, before extinguishing the flame completely and covering it. "That is a load of hippogriff shite. It's _not_ funny, Theo! I've got to impersonate that smug little twat! No, I refuse. Absolutely. Isn't there anyone – and I mean _anyone_ – else out there we can use instead?"

"Unfortunately there isn't. She'll be the only one attending Umbridge that night as security will be too busy eavesdropping on the guests."

"Bloody fucking hell. Alright. Well." Hermione stood there at a loss for words, hands dangling listlessly by her side. "I don't even know where to begin portraying her properly…"

Theo approached her with a smile, his hands resting on her shoulders and then softly drifting down her arms to hold her hands. "I'll help you. Unfortunately I've had to spend time around the whinging mutt due to both my work at Gringotts and within the Inner Circle."

Hermione smiled and leaned in closer, her nose gently swishing left to right in between his pectorals. She inhaled deeply, practically salivating at the intoxicating scent that infiltrated her nose. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she squeezed him closer and sighed. She had awoken that morning to find the space next to her on the bed empty, yet still warm. She forced herself awake in a panic only to find him at her desk working out the details of their attack.

"How, exactly, is this going to work anyways? Your presence is required at the Ball and surely you won't be able to escape notice for long. Let alone being seen leaving with _Parkinson_."

Theo pressed a kiss to the top of her head before resting his chin there. "Well, I figured it's all or nothing at this point. I promised I would help you with this, so if for whatever reason I get caught, we'll deal with it. However, I will do my utmost to socialize with the tossers and ensure my departure goes unnoticed. How are you going to get her away from the main gathering?"

Hermione shrugged, "I'm not positive. What I _do_ know is that she detests rule breakers more than I ever did and her ego blinds her into thinking she can handle it alone. So I doubt she'll call for help to handle the situation. I figured once I informed her there were a couple students who were doing improper activities and planning on continuing in the upper floors she would take after them faster than a dog with a bone. Once we're far enough away I'll silence her and then shove her arse into the Room of Requirement. I've learned of a beautiful little spell that'll prevent anyone not of my permission from intruding."

"Well, aren't you a devious little witch." Theo chuckled, his eyes shining in mirth as he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Alright, as much as I'd absolutely _love_ to continue down this path I've started, I need to go into work for a few hours and then somehow find a way to obtain a hair of the _lovely_ Miss Parkinson. Will you be alright? Have enough to do?"

Hermione snickered as she recalled the events of the previous night. Theo had every intention of bedding her last night; but unfortunately for him, he was still in bit of pain that prohibited him from acting accordingly. Theo had groaned in no small amount of frustration as Hermione had carefully climbed off his lap and laid down next to him, snuggling in for bed. At the sound of Theo clearing his throat, she redirected her thoughts back to the present and thought over his question.

"I'll be fine. The potion has to brew for the next twenty-four hours before we can add the final ingredients; so you have plenty of time to get something of Pansy's. Other than that I've really nothing to do. Is it alright if I take a book and read outside?"

Theo thought the request over, doing his best to hide his teasing smile, long enough to irritate an impatient Hermione into her notorious foot tapping. "Yes, yes. That's fine, love. Just don't go further than the well, alright?"

Hermione eagerly nodded and gave him a quick kiss and a cheery _goodbye_ before skipping to the room next to hers to peruse the bookshelves there. She heard the faint _pop_ of Theo's departure as she traced her fingertips over various spines. A smile pulled at her lips as she landed on a classic, one that her parents had loved: _The Winter's Tale_. Without a second thought she removed the book from the old wooden shelves and tucked it under her arm, making her way towards the back door of the cottage. She had only stepped outside their little love-nest a handful of times, most of them being to throw Theo's muddied shoes out onto the patio.

With a newfound sense of excitement she opened the single-pane door and stepped out onto the smooth stone warmed by the sun. Continuing down the path, pausing only to locate the well, she sidestepped off the stones and let her bare toes dig into the fresh earth – grass tickling the arch of her feet. With a sigh of contentment she hadn't felt in ages, she settled in a slightly shaded spot and stretched out her legs. Quietly humming to herself, soaking in the serenity of her surroundings, she carefully opened the book and let her eyes lazily scan the pages.

Hermione continued to read until the sun kissed the horizon and her light-source began to fade. Closing the book and hopping up from her spot, she made her way back to the house – playfully jumping over every other stone like a child's game of hopscotch. Shutting the back door, she glanced at the clock to see what time it was and noticed it was well past supper time. Frowning, she made her way to the kitchen to start something for dinner – her mind not straying far from the thought of Theo and where he could possibly be.

Three hours later she plated them each a serving of chicken tikka masala and sat at the table to wait. Eyes drifted to the clock once more and noticed it was nearly midnight. Just as she began to fidget, foot tapping and a hand tangling in her ever-frizzing hair, she heard the all-too-familiar sound of Theo's boots hitting the stones out back. Sitting back in her chair and aiming an icy glare of death towards the kitchen entrance, she waited for him to enter. She didn't have to wait long.

"Hermione? Mmm, something smells wonderful. Did you actually cook? And you're still alive?" his voice echoed into the room just before he physically entered himself.

"Where the hell have you been? You said you'd only be gone for a few hours! The last time you were later than you said you'd be you were practically dead on your feet!" Hermione seethed, the tips of her hair sparking.

"Sorry about that, love. Work got busier than I expected; but I have good news! I got the hair you need for the potion." This was said with a triumphant smile as he lifted a little vial with a single hair curled inside.

"How'd you manage it?" she questioned as she took the vial from his hands and set it on the table out of the way.

"Well, that's part of the reason I'm late. Parkinson approached me about a cursed object her father obtained on one of his travels. He was eager to get the problem resolved so I figured this would be our best opportunity to get what we needed. However, in accepting their offer I also had to stay for dinner and it all turned into some ponce affair that I certainly did not want to be involved in."

Hermione cast her eyes down at their now overly-cooled plates. "Oh…so you're not hungry?"

Theo chuckled and took a seat at the table. "Are you kidding me? I may have had to accept the dinner invitation, but I'm certainly smarter than to accept anything they actually give me. One of their house elves took pity on me and conveniently made my food disappear."

Hermione laughed softly and picked up her fork. "That was probably the best thing honestly. I can't tell you how many times I had to report Parkinson for the use of love potions – not that it didn't do any good seeing as her Head of House could give two fucks about it."

Theo nodded in agreement and shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. Together they ate, the silence thick but not uncomfortable as they allowed their bodies to unwind for the day. After they finished, they put their plates away and made their way down the hall to their bedrooms. Theo stopped in front of his door and grabbed ahold of Hermione's hand before she walked too far from him. She stopped in her tracks and turned just enough to look over her shoulder.

"Yes?" she asked, brows raised in question.

"Stay with me tonight. You don't need to be sleeping in the same room with those potion fumes anyway. Gods only know what it'll do to your hair."

Hermione growled and punched him in the arm with a grumbled _twat_ under her breath. Looking towards her room once more she figured he was probably right and turned to face him fully. "Alright, but we need to sleep, Theo. The next couple of days are going to be busy, you know, with Pansy training and torturing toads."

Theo raised his hands in defense and chuckled, "Whatever you want, love; but, just so you know, _you're_ the one who likes to grope this body of mine in the middle of the night."

Hermione could feel a blush igniting her cheeks at the accusation, arms crossing over her chest. "I do _not_ grope...I'm more likely to punch you than _grope_ you, thank you very much!"

"Punch…grope…same thing where you're concerned." Theo sighed and placed his hands over his heart. "It was all the talk in Slytherin House, my dear. Hermione Granger had a fetish for hitting us poor wee Slytherins. My heart hurts – you terrible, terrible witch."

Hermione sighed and pushed Theo through his open doorway, watching as he slightly tripped over his feet, muttering a stern _Oh quit your whinging and get undressed_ before closing the door behind them.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's Chapter 17! So, I hadn't intended for this chapter to go completely this way, but my mind had other intentions apparently. I do believe it's a scene that most of you have been waiting to see, so fingers crossed you like it. LOL. For my readers who don't enjoy reading sexual scenes - I don't think it's _that_ bad - feel free to skip this chapter as it doesn't really affect the plot. I hope to have the next chapter available to you sometime this weekend. Maybe. Enjoy loveys! xo

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Hermione stood with her back turned to the room quietly unbuttoning her blouse when she felt Theo's presence close in on her - the taut muscles of his chest lightly brushing against her with each breath he took. Air caught in her throat as she felt the gentle weight of his hands rest on her shoulders, kneading her muscles into submission. Her eyes unfocused as those same hands softly drifted down her arms, removing her shirt that much more with each subtle squeeze. Her heartbeat picked up as she felt the cotton fall away from her torso, hitting the carpeted floor silently. Without thought, she raised her arms to cover her semi-nakedness, her shoulders slightly hunched in apprehension.

"Theo?" she questioned, her voice tinged with anxiety. "We should be sleeping."

Theo chuckled softly in her ear causing Hermione to jump as she hadn't realized how close he actually was to her. "We can sleep when we're dead. Right now, all I want to do is...hold you…" his hands left her arms to firmly sit at her hips, pulling her ever closer, "...kiss you…" warm, slightly slick lips met the base of her neck causing goose pimples to speckle her arms and legs, "... _love you_ …" he finished with a nearly inaudible whisper as he pushed his semi-hard erection against her lower back.

Hermione whimpered as his glorious fingers began to slowly drift up from her hips, dancing over her ribs, and settling just beneath her breasts - his thumbs swishing back and forth causing the skin there to tingle. Her nipples began to harden, her thighs clenching tighter together to relieve the ache that was beginning to build. She froze as Theo's whispered words of _let me see you_ seemingly echoed within the silence that blanketed them.

"I'm not...I don't…" she paused to gather what little sense she had left. "I don't look the same as I did before, Theo. I've got these hideous scars all over my body now...and...what if…"

"What if what, love?"

Hermione inhaled sharply, fighting against the sudden prickling in her eyes. "What if you don't like what you see?"

Silence consumed them long enough to cause Hermione to think she had broken the sensual tension filling the room. She nearly startled out of her very skin when she felt Theo untangled her arms and grabbed her hand, pulling her over to a quaint, oval mirror that hung on the wall next to the closet just above a refurbished nightstand. Her eyes focused on his reflection, both brows raised in question.

Theo smiled and once again placed his hands on her shoulders. "I want you to see what I see - feel what I feel - every time I lay eyes on you."

Hermione frowned, "What?"

Theo quieted her with a single look, before removing his hands from her shoulders - one wrapping around her waist to draw lazy circles on her quivering stomach; the other reaching up, letting calloused fingertips rest at the tip of the scar that kissed her collarbone. Slowly - ensuring Hermione was still looking at him - he let his fingers drift down the jagged and raised skin all the way down to the tip of her breast. He continued to run up and down the scar with his fingers while his other hand slowly made its way up to her breasts - gently tugging and rolling her pert nipples.

"Hermione, you should never be ashamed of your scars. They are beautiful, just as you are. No, look, truly look at them Hermione and then maybe you'll get a glimpse of what I see." He bent closer to her ear, his voice nothing but a deep resonance within her addled mind, "Scars are nothing, but a badge of honor...something to be proud of. They are proof that you, my beautiful lioness, have stared into the face of Death and _won_."

Hermione released a strangled moan, head falling back against his shoulder, lips parted; but she never took her eyes away from his. She felt her body react to the deviously sensual glint in his eyes as he ran his tongue over the shell of her ear distracting her from the sudden shockwave of arousal that swept through her as he gave a slightly violent tug on her overly sensitive nipple. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt him press harder into her, feeling all that he was just above her hips. Just as she was beginning to apply the same pressure against him, his hands dropped lower - one following the line of the scar that ran from her breast to her hip while the other danced across her shivering skin.

Theo gently maneuvered his leg in between hers, just enough for his thigh to fit comfortably within the gap. Returning his eyes to hers, he watched as her skin darkened as he continued to rub her scar with the one hand, allowing the other to drift that much further south the barrier of her jeans and underwear never slowing his descent. He felt as the palm of his hand brushed past the soft, wet curls and his fingers found their home within the slick, warm passage - pumping slowly.

"You, my darling little otter, are absolutely breathtaking." he whispered, his voice nearly hoarse from arousal.

Hermione smiled, her hands coming up and reaching behind her to anchor them in his hair. Tilting her head back just a bit further, she pulled his face closer to hers and sealed their lips together. A moan ripped through her as his fingers slid over her clit and back into her opening, coating his fingers in her flowing juices. Gently pumping her hips against his hand, their tongues battled against one another, their breathing harsh. Theo quickly removed his fingers from her, grabbed her hips and turned her to fully face him.

As they continued to battle for dominance, Hermione did the best she could to remove her jeans without breaking contact - using her legs and feet to kick them off in a shaky little jig. She felt better about it seeing that Theo had to do the same thing as he was apparently intent on sucking the very life out of her lips and tongue. She laughed breathlessly, her hands moving up to his face, gently placing her hands on his cheeks. His hands moved down to cup her buttocks and lift her with only the slightest strain - carrying her to the bed. Gently, he laid her on the cool sheets his body coming to rest atop hers.

He removed his mouth from hers and began trailing kissing down her jaw to her neck, stopping to apply light suction to the areas he knew were sensitive for her. He delighted in her sighs and moans as his teeth gently scraped across her collarbone. He made sure to plant gentle kisses all along the ragged, raised skin of her scars to emphasize how truly little they meant to him.

Hermione inhaled sharply, back arching, as she felt his warm lips enclose on her nipple - sucking and teasing - as his hand reached up and plucked the other as if it were a fine-tuned instrument. She gasped his name like a holy prayer as his teeth and fingers clenched simultaneously around her hardened flesh. She felt the muscles in her stomach begin to tremble again, her inner muscles clenching in pulsing waves. She felt as if she would fall over the precipice at any moment; but she held on, forcing herself to wait.

Theo chuckled darkly as he moved lower, his tongue darting in to coat her bellybutton and then ever lower. His eyes nearly rolled back into his head as he got his first taste of her in years. He attacked her clit with tongue, lips, and teeth until he felt her thighs begin to quiver. He placed his hands on her legs and slowly lifted them to rest on his shoulders before he grabbed her hips, pulling her closer. His tongue dove deep, swishing and flicking her inner cavern until he felt her entire body tense and then release on a deep moan. He withdrew slowly, his tongue darting out to finish off the remains of her juices. He moaned in satisfaction as she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Hermione watched as her legs lazily fell from his shoulders leaving herself open, vulnerable. She watched as he climbed his way up her body looking like a predator seekings its prey. He stopped once he was eye level with her, waiting. She looked into his eyes and found such an immense sense of love she felt tears burn her eyes. With a fragile smile, she widened her legs just a bit more, her knees coming to rest against her raised hips. She gave him a nod of approval and watched as he slowly aligned his hardened member with her opening.

She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until Theo leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her slightly parted lips, whispering _relax, love_. She let her body lose the tension and smiled. She gave him one final nod just before she felt him begin to press into her. She felt the sting as he slowly pushed himself in. She was nowhere near being a virgin, but it had been _so long_ her body needed to to adjust. As she gathered her thoughts, she felt his body stop causing her to look down. He was buried to the hilt, the tip brushing something deep and delicious inside her.

She lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, her ankles locking them in place. Her hands reached up, bringing his face down to hers. Their lips joined once more as he began to pump his hips, their moans intermingling as the pace picked up faster and faster. She could feel that fire beginning to build rapidly once more as he pushed himself faster and harder - slamming into her with such efficiency she began to see stars sparkling in her peripheral. Gods, he felt good. She closed her eyes, her body arching up into his, as that fire claimed her. She practically screamed his name to the heavens as her orgasm consumed her.

Theo watched in amazement as color flood Hermione's body in a wave of passion. His breath was ragged, his tongue darting out to wet his lips and tasted sweat. He continued to pump furiously into her, trying to claim his own release. He was so close, _so close_. He could feel it just out of reach. His thighs clenched as he lifted himself up and his hands grabbed her hips. His eyes fell to watch their joining. Watched his hips piston back and forth. He tilted his head back, eyes squeezed tight as he felt his sack tighten. _Nearly there_. With two final pumps, he felt something within him break and he moaned in ecstasy as his hips slowed in jerky movements.

Sweat coated both of their bodies, their eyes heavy with pleasure. Hermione looked up at him and gave him such a dazzling, loving smile his breath caught in his throat. Slowly, he withdrew himself and collapsed beside her - his arms reaching around her and pulling her back flush against his chest. He leaned down and placed a sloppy kiss at her temple, listening to her tired sigh.

He smiled. "I love you, Hermione."

She snuggled closer into him, hands tucked beneath her pillow. He wasn't sure if she had heard him after several seconds of listening to her soft breathing. He placed another kiss against her temple, getting ready to settle in for the night, when he heard her sleep-coated mumble of _love you too_.

He smiled as he watched her settle into deeper sleep, her breath evening out, a small smile pulling at her lips. In this moment, it was as if Hermione was the same woman he had lain with all those years ago. He knew it wasn't - she had matured, hardened; but he could still see that softness within her, see the woman she once was no matter how hard she tried to hide it. He may not have magicked all her pain and heartache away - and Gods knew it would probably get worse from this point on - but that didn't matter.

No, all he had ever wanted was to be that guiding light in her darkness, and as he looked at her one final time, he smiled.

He had finally brought her back to the light, no matter how brief.

He had finally brought her _home_.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's Chapter 18! Alright, so, this chapter gets pretty…disturbing…the more you read. Take this as fair warning that if you're squeamish, well, be prepared. Please excuse any edits I might have missed. I powerhoused through this as I wanted to give everyone a chapter that was relative to the plot before the weekend ended. This is also the longest chapter I've written thus far, but it needed to be done. Hope you enjoy! xo

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Hermione didn't have to wait long for the pink menace to appear at the gates. She had held back the urge to tap her foot in irritation. One would think that with how much Umbridge appreciated rules, she would also have a sense of punctuality; but apparently not. Umbridge arrived fifteen minutes late and completely ignored her as she walked past and entered through the gates. Hermione quirked a brow, but did her duty and followed silently behind.

With each step they took towards Hogwarts, Hermione was finding it a struggle to breathe. Each way she looked, she was surrounded by ghostly images of her past here. Fred and George throwing snowballs at Quirrell, Luna standing by the lake staring up at her namesake, Harry and Ron riding their brooms low to the ground - laughing, loving, _living_. By the time they had reached the doors to the Great Hall she was doing her best to control her hyperventilating. Umbridge quickly turned on her.

"For Merlin's sake, girl. Pull yourself together. If you embarrass me tonight I will _end_ you. Understood?" All that said with that irritating little smile of hers.

Hermione ground her teeth and simply nodded her head with a whispered _Yes, Madam Minister_.

Umbridge stared at her for only a second longer before entering the buzzing Great hall, packed with students up to the highest echelon of Voldemort's ranks. She quickly scanned the room and noticed three things: Theo had yet to arrive, Snape was apparently not gracing them with his hellish presence, and Malfoy was standing not but a hop and skip away from her by the drinks station. She curled her hands into fists, quickly relaxing them as she was ordered to retrieve her new Lord and Master a beverage.

Inhaling deeply she put on her best flirtatious smile - of which felt absolutely absurd on this new face of hers - swung those hips and approached both the bar and the platinum ferret.

"Draco, darling! How are you?" she sang in that too-high voice and pressed her body up against Malfoy's until he was almost like a second skin as she placed an air kiss on each of his cheeks.

"Pansy." Draco nodded, taking a rather deep sip of his drink. Scotch, most likely.

"This is such a _fabulous_ party, yes? And you look simply _ravishing_." She purred as she reached up and trailed a pointed nail down his cheek to his jawline. She could feel his muscles tense under her touch. She internally grinned.

He gently took her hand and removed it from his person with the faintest of sneers. "Yes, quite. It looks like the Minister is getting impatient. Better hurry."

Hermione looked over her shoulder and quickly grabbed the closest two drinks. She gave Malfoy the most dazzling smile she could muster and winked. "Don't disappear into any broom closets without me, love."

She watched as Malfoy visibly paled - she didn't even know that was possible with how fair-skinned he was - and darted his eyes around their surrounding area to see if anyone had overheard. Once he was confident no one had, he sent her a subtle glare and stalked off with his half-full drink. Hermione watched him go before returning to Umbridge, drinks in hand, who was currently speaking with some uppity prat from the Ministry. She was not introduced, but she didn't care. The less she had to speak to these people the better for everyone.

Taking a sip from her drink, which appeared to be some fizzy concoction, she let her eyes subtly stray around the room - frequently revisiting the entrance. About thirty minutes in she finally saw Theo enter with Blaise in tow. She gave them both a flirty little smile and waggled her fingers in greeting. She got simple nods back before they disappeared into the crowd and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. It would seem Pansy gave everyone the itch to leave her presence immediately.

She waited another hour, giving Theo as subtle a sign as possible, before interrupting the most tedious conversation she had ever heard in her life. She stood to her full height and stuck what little nose she had in the air as if she was smelling something rancid. "Excuse me, Madam Minister. Sorry to interrupt this _absolutely fascinating_ discussion, but I just saw two students participating in _very_ vulgar displays and heard them say they were going to the fourth floor to" she paused to raise her hands in air quotes, " _finish the job._ "

Hermione watched as both rage and disgust flared in Umbridge's cheeks and held back the smile. She had been right in assuming the self-absorbed witch would tackle this situation on her own. She simply loved being right. She followed quickly and quietly behind the rampaging pink monster as she climbed stair after stair. It wasn't long before they reached the fourth corridor and Umbridge began blasting open classroom doors. Hermione looked around for anything to knock the bitch unconscious, but to no avail. Well, she'd just have to rely on her magic then. As Umbridge neared the end of the rooms, Hermione raised her wand and sent her hurtling into the stone. Unfortunately it didn't knock her out. What it _did_ do was piss her off. Hermione internally shrugged.

"I'll kill you, bitch!" Umbridge screeched as she staggered to her feet and reached to touch the Dark Mark with a dirtied hand. Hermione, mind racing, threw herself and tackled the other witch to the floor. With a ferocious casting of _Sectumsempra_ she watched as Umbridge's forearm completely dropped off from the rest of her body. Umbridge began to screech in agony and Hermione quickly silenced her with both a punch to the face - resulting in a seriously bleeding nose - and a spell. Once all was quiet she leaned over to the side, chest heaving from exertion, and spit out the blood that had gotten in her mouth when Umbridge's arm decided to take on the life of a geyser. Standing on shaking legs, she picked up the witch's still twitching arm and tossed it into the darkness of an empty classroom alongside her snapped wand. Lifting her own, she whispered a _Wingardium Leviosa_ and watched as Umbridge's still body lifted and followed her to the staircase.

Her eyes darted around the dimly-lit corridors. She dragged her arm across her forehead trying to remove the blood beginning to drip in her eyes; knowing that she was probably just making it worse. She had known severing the arm was a risky decision, and she had expected there to be blood; but, Merlin's pants, she hadn't expected to _bathe_ in it. Taking the last flight of stairs to the seventh corridor, she finally spotted her destination. She unceremoniously dropped Umbridge on the stone floor and began pacing in front of the blank wall - thinking of her dark desires.

A black as pitch door materialized in the wall and Hermione smirked. She grabbed ahold of Umbridge's collar and dragged her forcefully to the entrance. She twisted the knob and pulled open the door, hearing the hinges screech. Ominous. Hermione ducked her head in and felt a sense of giddy anticipation as she saw the Room in all its glory. Medieval torches, chains, and racks lined the walls in various displays. There was a table off to the side that held weapons ranging from clamps to seriously serrated knives. She chuckled under her breath and dragged the now-waking witch into the room, firmly shutting the door behind her.

She let the witch wake up on her own - they were still waiting on Theo anyways - and casually leaned up against the stone wall staring at the shivering and shaking woman currently curled in the fetal position on the cold floor as she cradled her amputated arm. She had done the same as she had when Cormac was still alive and placed a stasis charm on the wound. Afterall, couldn't have the bint bleeding to death before the _real_ fun began. It wasn't long before she had enough of listening to her whimpering, she straightened from the wall and walked over feeling as if she was a starving predator and she had just found the prey she needed. Pulling her leg back, she released it with a fury and slammed it into Umbridge's middle - knocking her sprawled out onto her back.

She stared down at Umbridge's ashen face and watched the fear show through her tears. Hermione smiled.

"I'll kill you, you impudent mudblood bitch." Umbridge growled through the pain.

Hermione _tsked_ and knelt closer to her prone body. "Such language, Madam Minister. That's against the rules."

"I can do whatever I please. I believe my first order will be to have you killed."

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Been there, done that, didn't work."

The door to the Room creaked on its hinges and Hermione looked up to see Theo finally enter. She raised both brows, "You're late."

Theo looked down at Umbridge before redirecting his gaze on the newly regained form of Hermione who seemed to be already drenched in blood. "Sorry, love, Malfoy wouldn't leave me the fuck alone. Had to sic Astoria Greengrass on him."

"You traitor!" Umbridge shrilled in an unholy octave. "I will have your head for this!"

Theo smiled maliciously, his inner darkness peeping through in this moment, causing Hermione to shiver. "Are you sure it won't be your head that's to be had tonight?"

Umbridge's face exploded in color as her rage consumed her. Spittle shot from between smeared lips as she tried to form coherent words. Hermione sighed and stood back to her full height. As she kicked her heels off she asked the room for a chair with restraints. As all things did in this magical room, the chair materialized out of thin air and looked positively out of the Dark Ages. Perfect.

With a flick of her wand she levitated the none-too-light woman and set her in the chair. Theo immediately went to work on locking her arms and legs into the device. Once finished, he stepped back and allowed Hermione to take center stage once again.

She gave him a warm smile for his generosity, tapping the tip of her wand against her open palm. "Now, Madam Minister, where shall we begin? We've got so many years to catch up on!"

"I will _destroy_ you both. Unhand me this instant!"

"I'm afraid that if you say something of that sort again I'll be forced to take extreme measures." She stepped closer and bent so she was eye-level, staring into furious blue eyes. "And, believe me, I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty. Ask McLaggen." She paused. "Oh, wait, you can't."

Umbridge's eyes widened almost comically, "I knew you were behind his disappearance! I _knew_ it! Where is he? Where is Marcus?"

Hermione shrugged, picking at the dirt beneath her fingernails. "Dead, I'm afraid."

Umbridge began to spout off curses and epitaphs in such a hurried slur Hermione had trouble following. Well, that is until she heard the threat of her death - again. She sighed heavily and walked over to the weapons table and picked up one of the shorter daggers - the blade thin as a pick, yet vicious. She smiled and turned around to see Theo already approaching Umbridge from the back and slamming his hands on her head, holding it in place.

"Unhand me! You can't do this to me! I'm the bloody Minister!"

Hermione continued her slow walk, clenching the leather-wrapped handle of the dagger - knuckles white with strain. She stopped just before her legs bumped into Umbridge's bound ones and bent over. "I'm afraid that means nothing to me. I warned you not to spout untruths, now you must suffer the consequences. I'm sure you'll appreciate what I'm about to do."

Umbridge tried to struggle, but she was nowhere near breaking Theo's hold. Hermione placed her left hand on her forehead, nails digging in forcefully, and brought the dagger up - the tip barely pricking the skin. She smiled, all sanity gone, down at her prey. "Did you know, Madam Minister, that paper was once made out of human flesh? No? Well, it's absolutely fascinating. Slaves...thieves...murderers...they would have their flesh cut from them - relishing in their screams." She paused, waiting for Umbridge to fully comprehend what exactly was about to happen to her. Once she saw the realization shine in her widened eyes, she grinned. "I see you understand now. Let's begin."

Umbridge screamed as the knife dug into her forehead in rough and jagged movements. Feeling the metal tear at the thin muscles there and scrape bone. Hermione watched as blood began to drip from the open cuts, spreading over her palm to slip down her wrist. She continued to breathe evenly as she studiously worked on her art. Goose pimples sparked across her skin as Umbridge let loose a particularly anguished scream as Hermione finished her last carving - a lightening bolt. Fitting.

She stepped back to observe her work and gave a satisfied grunt of approval. Theo removed his hands from Umbridge's head, wiping his sweaty palms off on his robes. He looked up to see Hermione summon a mirror and then flash the glinting surface towards Umbridge. The woman sobbed as she read what had been permanently carved into her skin: _I Must Not Tell Lies_.

"You bloody fucking bitch." She cried, her sobs broken and hollow.

Hermione continued to stand there, simply staring - hands resting at her sides, blood slowly dripping on the stone floor. "I've been called worse. Have you learned your lesson?"

Umbridge hung her head, chin touching her chest. She didn't respond, but Hermione didn't really want her to. She returned to the weapons table and replaced the dagger. Her eyes scanned over the remaining items, her bloodied fingers tapping her equally bloody chin in no set pattern as she thought.

"Theo, what should -" Hermione paused mid-sentence. A low rumble resonated beneath her feet in the stones, causing her to furrow her brows and look towards the door. The spell she had used would prevent anyone she hadn't invited from entering, so they were relatively safe for the time being. Yet, the rumbling continued in sporadic vibrations and she looked up towards Theo.

"What is that?"

Theo shrugged, but she noted he was visibly on edge with how stiff his shoulders were and the tension in his face. "I'm not sure, but it can't be good."

Umbridge let loose a laugh that sent a chill down Hermione's spine. She turned to the bound and bleeding woman with raised brows. "Something you'd like to share?"

She continued to cackle, her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes alight. "You _stupid_ bitch. You think cutting off the Dark Mark would keep them from finding you." She laughed harder, tears leaking from her eyes as her body began to shake. "The Mark is burned into our _souls_. Once we've pledged our allegiance there is _no where_ you can hide. Death is the only cure."

Hermione nodded, her face creased in thought before she made her decision. "Alright." She raised her wand and released the stasis charm on her arm, watching as blood squirted out with each heartbeat. Theo began to move away from the door heading to their escape passage that would take them into Hogsmeade.

"Finish her off then, love. We need to go. Now."

Hermione nodded and looked towards Umbridge, shrugging. "You heard the man. It's been an absolute pleasure, Madam Minister. This is for my brother." She raised her wand once more, dropping it in a _very_ precise slash, and called out _Sectumsempra._ Nothing seemed to happen for several seconds. Umbridge continued to stare wide-eyed, her mouth open as if she were still laughing. Then - slowly, steadily - Hermione watched the witch's head tilt just so then completely fall from what remained of her neck. It fell with a harsh _thump_ and _squick_ and rolled just a bit before stopping. The severed veins at her neck pulsated blood in a shower that Hermione wasn't particularly fond of joining again.

As the roaring outside the Room grew louder, Hermione turned on the heel of her bare foot and approached Theo. He quickly took her hand and helped her up into the elevated passage. He led the way, wand raised and lit with an unspoken _Lumos._ Hermione quickly reached for the portrait and slammed it back in place. Never once looking back.

No, it was time to move forward.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's Chapter 19. Just a reminder, we've got one chapter left until the conclusion of Part One.

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They made their way through the dimly-lit passage with hurried steps, doing their best to dodge the somewhat large clumps of dirt that fell from above. Hermione clenched Theo's hand, their fingers intertwined, as her bare foot caught on a rather sharp stone resulting in her pitching forward. Theo slowed, waiting for her to right herself, and then continued forward, determination etched into his face, wand raised high.

It wasn't long before the faint echo of voices began to fill the tunnel causing them to slow. They finally stopped when they came to the backside of another portrait. Waiting only a few moments longer so as to catch their breath, Theo extinguished the light from his wand and turned to face Hermione. He stepped up to her, until the hem of his pressed trousers brushed against the top of her bare feet and gently cupped her face within his large palms, touching their foreheads together.

"You ready, love?"

Hermione stared up into his face, not that she could see much of it in the darkness that encased them, and slowly nodded. "Yes." she said with finality.

Their lips joined in a slow caress - both pouring all that they were into the other, praying that would be enough to sustain them through this next trial. Parting slowly, Theo gave her a final peck, letting his lips whisper words of love against hers, and nodded. They both raised their wands and tapped the top of their heads - feeling a sensation not unlike runny egg yolks dripping down their body. They watched as the other slowly disappeared from view, with nothing but the outside sounds of the pub breaching their bubble of silence.

Theo reached and took Hermione's hand again, giving it a final squeeze, before pushing against the portrait and watching it swing open. Stepping out first, he let his eyes scan the abandoned storeroom before turning around and helping Hermione down. She quickly turned and resealed the tunnel, smiling up at the portrait. Although invisible, it seemed the young lady portrayed in the magical painting saw right through the glamour and gave them both a small smile that seemed tinged with a bit of sadness.

They took the stairs down to the main level, ensuring their bodies didn't collide with the drunken bodies. Stepping over fallen mugs and shattered bottles, they approached the door and slipped out mostly unnoticed. As their feet hit the dirty cobblestones of the main thoroughfare, an alarm sounding like a shrieking cat in heat exploded in the air causing them to stiffen. Panic seized them for only a moment before Hermione quickly grabbed his hand and thought of the cottage. Nothing. She tried again and again - waiting for that tell-tale pull of apparition, but nothing happened.

Theo cursed, "They've put up a godsdamned anti-apparition barrier. We'll have to find the edge of it before we can go anywhere."

They took off at a sprint down the road, heading towards the Forbidden Forest. Hermione cursed as the disillusionment charm began to wear off, her blood-stained hands coming into view. She turned her head to look over at Theo, jerking curls out of her face, and saw that his was failing too. Just as her body completely shed the spell, her ears picked up the distinct sound of popping. She turned, trying not to stumble, and saw figures with black cloaks and silver masks begin to materialize - wands raised.

"They're here! I thought you said apparating wasn't possible!" Hermione shouted as she dodged a red stream of light.

Theo glanced over his shoulder, before veering them both to the left. "You can from within the barrier! They must have crossed over the line and located us some-"

A beam of sickly green light shot between them and smashed into a storefront. Hermione faltered for only a moment before picking up her pace. She raised her wand and started shooting off every curse she could possibly think of in that moment. Most shot wide, colliding into buildings or the street, but Hermione kept on, counting those she had knocked down by their pained screams.

She felt Theo tug on her arm again as they swerved around a corner, their breaths coming in short pants. "Where are we going?"

Theo grunted as he took a hit in the shoulder with what apparently felt like a bone-crushing hex. "We need to get to the Forbidden Forest! They will have just blocked off the town as the Forest has too many magical beings to counteract the barrier!"

Hermione nodded, "Okay, great; but we're just heading further into the town!"

"Just trust me, Hermione!"

They wound their way through alleyways and backstreets, throwing curses and hexes behind them. Hermione felt her foot catch on a loose cobblestone and cursed every God she could think of. Ignoring the pain, knowing death would be much worse, she pushed on. She glanced down to see bloody footprints and groaned. "It doesn't matter where we go, Theo! My feet are bleeding too much. They'll find us just by my footprints!"

Theo paused, his face frozen in both fear and grudging determination. "Alright, we stop and face them head on. You ready, love?"

Hermione huffed her agreement and together they skid to a halt. Both wands raised, they watched their cloaked pursuers catch up to them and circle around them. A second of utter stillness blanketed them before chaos erupted.

Theo and Hermione pressed back to back, sweat dripping from their foreheads as they continued to shoot off curses. Death Eaters dropped, not as quickly as they hoped, but slowly their numbers began to dwindle. Hermione turned on the ball of her foot and took out three Death Eaters at once by Vanishing them - figuring Marcus could probably use the company.

Theo held his own as he took down the remaining cloaked figures on his side. Something flashed in his peripheral causing him to turn. It was as if time itself had slowed, his heart a hard thump in his chest and ears. A savage purple light - one he knew only too well - ripped itself from the tip of the Death Eater's wand and hurtled towards Hermione who was currently fighting in her own battle.

He felt himself screaming Hermione's name, but the sound was overpowered by his thundering heartbeat. He watched as Hermione swiveled around, her eyes growing wide as she saw the light. Her body seemed to freeze, forgoing raising a shield as memories swamped her. It was in that moment that Theo knew.

So, he lunged.

The purple light hit him in the center of his chest. He was almost sure he heard Hermione shriek, but all his senses seemed to be dulling as a heat began to stir near his heart. He saw a green light blaze above him before he felt Hermione drop to his side. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned his dress robes and watched as blood began to bloom across his white undershirt. Her vision began to darken along the edges as she funneled her magic into his body.

"Stay with me, love. Fight with me." she whispered hoarsely, the over-large lump in her throat making it difficult to speak.

She kept pushing against the raging current of dark magic that was attacking his organs one by one, but with each push she gave it returned it two-fold. The familiar prickle of tears began to stab her eyes as she gathered Theo into her arms - arms wrapped around his chest, his back cradled in between her legs.

"Hermione…"

"Yeah?" she asked as she, tried a different spell. And a different one. And a different one.

"You called me love...you haven't said that to me since before I left." he gasped, his hand coming to grip the front of his shirt.

"It's because I love you, you silly twit. Now, save your energy. There's got to be a way to heal this."

Theo coughed, blood seeping from his mouth at the corners, resulting in a strange sucking noise in his chest. A tear, then another, and another fell from her fluttering lashes as the dam she was struggling to hold in place began to crack. Her body trembled with the stress of holding up his growing weight.

"Hermione, we both know there's no way. You've said it yourself." he whispered brokenly.

A sob broke through, her eyes frantically scanning his face - seeing the color slowly draining from his skin, his eyes glossing over. "No! Theo you can't give up! I _can't_ lose you too! I can't! I'm not strong enough, not like you. I can't do this alone. _Please_ don't leave me...not again." She buried her face within the crook of his neck and began to rock back and forth. She felt his pulse beginning to slow as hers picked up pace. Soon she knew it would stop completely and she could no longer hold back the pain, the fear, the anger.

Ragged sobs broke her as she squeezed his overly-warm body closer - trying to merge them into one being, to save him with anything and everything she had. She felt Theo's hand come up to rest on her cheek causing her to pull away, their foreheads lightly touching.

"Hermione, you don't need me. You are _strong_ all on your own. You, the brightest witch of the age, can do _anything_ you set your mind to. I've witnessed it myself. There is so much more to you than anyone will ever know - probably more than I've seen myself. I need you to dig deep, Hermione, and grip that Gryffindor courage so ingrained in you and be _brave_. Not just for me; but for Harry, and Ron, and Luna and Neville. For your parents." He paused as another wet cough overtook him, his blood releasing in a gentle spray across her face. Once calmed, he looked up in her glistening eyes and smiled. "You, my brave little Otter, will do _amazing_ things...whether it be in this life or the next. Just know, love, that you are never alone. Have _never_ been alone."

She could no longer clearly make out his face as her vision had gone nearly black in grief. She cried so hard she began hiccuping, her blood-coated hands gently trailing over his cheeks, brushing away a matted lock of hair from his face. "I love you, Theo, _so much_."

Theo's face morphed into one of concentrated determination as he gathered up the last of his strength. Carefully, he lifted up as much as he could and pressed his lips softly against her trembling ones. She pressed against him hard, eyes squeezed tightly shut as she poured all of her love into him. He collapsed against her, his body wracked with spasms. He began to scream and as Hermione scanned his body in a panic she saw an oily, blacker-than-pitch rash creep up his neck. Her eyes widened as she watched his skin begin to break away into dust.

"Theo? Theo!" she screamed, her panic overtaking her as she began to clench him harder - her hands quickly moving to cover the parts that seemed to be disintegrating before her eyes.

"Be b-brave...l-love...yo-" His body froze, his chest no longer moving with struggled breaths, his hand dropped from her cheek and crashed against the cobblestones.

"No! No, no, no! Theo! THEO! DON'T LEAVE ME! I LOVE YOU TOO! I LOVE YOU!"

Hermione grabbed a hold of his clothes, screaming for Theo to come back, screaming until her throat ached and all that came out was raspy whispers as she watched what was left of her lover slip through her fingers like sand. Her fists clenched his bloodied dress robes, crashing them into her chest as she rocked back and forth. Her heart felt as if it would explode on the spot and a part of her wondered if she would die with him. She cursed and sobbed and cursed some more. White-knuckled fists slammed into the ground until her own blood was added to the existing puddle.

She didn't know how long it had been. How long she kneeled in the puddle of her lost lover's blood. She only knew it had been long enough for her to feel numb, her body dead-weight. Eyes swollen and red-rimmed stared unseeingly at the spot where Theo had lain, his bloodied and torn clothes the only evidence he had even been there.

Her mind faintly registered footsteps approaching from behind, but she couldn't find it within herself to care. They stopped just short of her hunched and battered body. Silence surrounded her for only a moment before an all too familiar voice shattered what remained of her soul.

"What. A. Pity."


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Hello my wonderful loveys! I'm SO sorry this chapter took so long to come out. The past couple of weeks have been a busy and emotional whirlwind of both life and death; but things have finally slowed down to give me enough time to finish this up for you guys. Anyways, here's Chapter 20! Enjoy! xo

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Hermione placed her bloodied and bruised palms on the ash-covered cobblestones and pushed herself up off her scraped knees. She fell as her legs gave out from beneath her, so she repeated and repeated until she could stand somewhat stably. Fingers - numb from shock and grief - held her wand listlessly as she slowly shuffled around. Eyes dampened with unshed tears flicked over black robes, a multi-buttoned waistcoat, a curtain of lank black hair, and dark brown eyes deeply set in an overly pale face.

"What do you want, Snape?" Her voice rang hollow and strained as she fought back the sobs that clenched her vocal cords in an icy fist.

He let his eyes slowly travel from the top of her frizzy, matted curls all the way down to her cut and bleeding feet; a single line beginning to form between his brows. "That does appear to be the question, doesn't it, Miss Granger?" His eyes found the prone bodies before sliding over to a pile of ash scattered at her feet. "Such a pity that such a good soldier was lost to something so infantile as love."

She flinched, her mind replaying the very last time she would ever hear words of love be spoken to her. Her chest began to rise as her breathing grew erratic. Her hands clenched more firmly around her wand as her heart picked up its pace. Fury swept through her like lava, slowly progressing from the center of her chest until it claimed even the muscles in her toes. Her vision cleared slightly as her eyes narrowed in his direction. "How dare you. You have no right - _none_ \- to even look upon this man's ashes. He gave his _life_ for me. _For me_!" she snarled, a clenched fist pounding against her chest, "Because he _loved_ me," she took a step closer, "But of course someone like _you_ \- a miserable old cunt - would think something so pure, so _honorable_ , would be futile and childish; because all you know is selfish desire." Another step brought her within wand's length from his stiff frame. "You are _nothing_ and _no one_ , Snape. I'd call you a coward, but that would be a fucking insult to them. You are lower than a fucking gutter rat - tucking your tail in between your legs and scurrying right off to wherever the hell people like you run off to. So, whatever you came here to do, I suggest you get on with it; because I'm going to fucking gut you like the goddamned swine you are."

Snape stared down at her impassively, watching as her teeth grated against one another and her chest heaved. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by what sounded like clapping. Both of them froze and turned to see who had just entered the game.

"Well said, Granger, well said."

Hermione glared, a single name escaping on a breath through clenched teeth. "Malfoy."

He nodded jovially before stopping just a few steps away - completing a slightly off-kilter triangle. He first raked his eyes over her body - not unsimilarly to what Snape had just done, and although his gaze held something primal, it didn't make her feel nearly as uncomfortable as Snape had - before fixing Snape with a look that almost resembled hatred. Needless to say, Hermione was a bit thrown as she had thought the godfather and godson were close. She watched nervously as her eyes bounced back and forth between the platinum ferret and greasy dungeon bat.

Keeping his eyes on Snape, Draco spoke. "Hermione, love, you should probably come over here before this lecherous arsehole decides to take a taste before he kills you."

Hermione cringed, repressing the urge to vomit all over his now dust-covered dress shoes. "Don't call me that and why the fuck do you care what he does to me? If he kills me? You want me just as dead."

Bright grey eyes looked at her for only a split second. "Now, that's not true at all and I'm sure you know it just as well as I." He looked towards her feet and Hermione was shocked speechless to see actual pain flicker across his face before the entitled mask slipped back into place.

Hermione frowned, her eyebrows slowly coming together as she thought about what she had just witnessed. She knew Malfoy and Theo had been semi-close in school and somewhat acquainted after; but what she _didn't_ know was how close they had actually been if what she had just seen was to be trusted. She shook her head as the sound of voices began to register in her head, her brain itching at the words Draco was speaking.

"Expulso Flagrate Impervious Glisseo Homenum revelio Tarantallegra." he finished, a smirk beginning to stretch across his face. "Sound familiar?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she unconsciously took a step forward, then another, until she was standing just to the side of Draco. She watched as his posture seemed to relax minutely, before he returned his attention to their Professor who was quickly growing agitated.

"What are you trying to get at, _boy_ ; and remember who it is - exactly - you're speaking to." Snape growled.

Draco laughed and took Hermione's hand within his own before gently pushing her behind him. "You can take that condescending tone and shove it up your arse, Snape."

Snape chuckled darkly as he withdrew a folded piece of parchment from a pocket in his robes. "Draco, do you honestly believe I don't know what you're doing? Your sympathy for this girl is going to be your undoing. I knew, _knew_ , you were up to something; that your obsession with this twit was something... _more_. However, your father seems to think I've been mistaken, that you only want to put the bitch in her place with a good fuck before ending her. He doesn't question your allegiance and neither should I. But I couldn't leave it at that. No."

Snape paused for only a moment to see Draco's wand hand begin to shake, resulting in a smile so wicked the color drained from Hermione's face. He cleared his throat, "So I found this precious little jewel during my investigations. Shall I read it to you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione, already shell-shocked, simply nodded. _What the actual fuck is happening right now?_ She thought to herself as she looked between the two men. This was definitely _not_ how she had imagined things to happen when she pictured confronting these two.

"You went through my personal things?" Draco's voice was low and roiling with fury. Hermione shivered.

Snape sneered. "As if you could stop me. I am the right-hand of our Lord and I will do as I please. Not even your _father_ , who is no more than a second-tier peasant, could stop me." He paused and stared at Hermione. "Now, Miss Granger, did you know that our Draco here has had a crush on you for quite some time? No? According to these quaint little journals of his he's - and I quote - _dreamt of sweeping her away from this nightmare that is life. She deserves more,_ is _so much more, than this world has thrown at her. She has grown - blossomed - into such a beautiful woman, one who radiates light in both beauty and magic, no matter the trials and tribulations set before her."_

Hermione felt her mouth hanging open and quickly slammed it shut - hearing the harsh pop of her jaw bone. She first stared at Snape as he held the parchment loosely in his left hand and then at Draco who was doing his best to remain unflappable, but was losing that battle rather quickly - if the twitching in his jaw and slight flaring of his nostrils was anything to go by.

Snape cleared his throat and chuckled. "You seem so surprised, Miss Granger. Surely, his devotion didn't go completely unnoticed? Surely, Mister Nott informed you of how his friend was in _lust_ with you? No. Well, let's continue, shall we?"

Draco clenched his fists at his side so hard Hermione was nearly worried he was going to snap the end of his wand. "That's enough, Snape."

Snape shook his head, his hair slightly sticking to his pallid cheeks. "Oh, it's certainly _not_ enough, Draco. You should have been smarter than to write down such weaknesses. Unfortunately, you weren't and you will pay with your life; but before we get to that, _boy_ , I'd like to finish laying out your heart to our little Miss Know-It-All." He inhaled as his eyes scanned the second piece of parchment rapidly. " _I have done everything I know to do to help her. I've warned off all of my younger colleagues by claiming her as my prize, intercepted spells for her during a hunt, I even located a rebel cell and tried to let her know through a stupid fucking radio so she could have hope. My heart is heavy with darkness and I am nothing but a coward hiding behind false pretenses to save someone who would wish me dead - and for good reason. Fortunately, she is better than I and a Gryffindor through and through. I hope to Merlin that is enough to get her through this life safely._ "

"I said that's _enough_ , Snape!" Draco growled.

" _It'll be enough when I say it is!_ " Snape snarled, "I believe we're past all that now." He took a couple steps closer, wand slightly raised. "I can't _believe_ you've fallen for this lowly bitch. One who you proclaim to be the filthiest of mudbloods, of whom you would _fuck_ as a punishment. Are you so in need to have your young cock wet that you need to sink to _her_ level?"

Draco snapped his arm wand up and laughed, "That was beneath you, Professor. It's not my fault no one _your_ age - or any other - wants to fuck your old, limp dick."

Hermione felt a sudden urge to vomit, she could feel the contents of her stomach crashing around in tumultuous waves. Two men of which she despised with every ounce of her being were - what? - fighting over her? Comparing their sizes? _What. The. Fuck_. She took a couple steps back, eyes wide, and hand gripping her wand until her knuckles were white. Her brain tried to process the revelations that had just been laid before her, but there were too many. Her mind stuttered to a halt as the two wizards raised their wands. Quietly, and as carefully as she could manage, she began to back away before turning sharply on her heel and sprinting towards the outlying woods.

She only got a short distance before curses lit up behind her, footsteps quickly following. She took a chance and peeked over her shoulder and saw Snape, apparently, had no interest in dueling with Malfoy and decided giving chase was the best option. Malfoy trailed not too far behind, his face set in a terrible scowl as he began shooting off spell after spell.

She wrenched her head back around to see where she was going, but was too late. Her foot caught on a fallen branch causing her to stumble. She let loose a stream of curses that would send even the most battle-hardened soldiers into embarrassed fits. She righted herself quickly, pushing her body harder and faster. Her lungs felt as if they were on the verge of collapsing, her legs trembling from exhaustion and adrenaline. Something hit her right between her shoulder blades, sending her hurtling into a small clearing. She groaned and pushed herself up on her hands and knees trying to fight the nausea that was quickly beginning to overwhelm her senses.

She flinched when she heard the crack of a tree stump exploding and tried to control her dry-heaving. She yelped as a cold hand fisted in her hair and yanked her back onto her feet. She kicked out her heels, threw her elbows back; but was quickly subdued - if not by her own measures - when little dots began to float in her vision after she tried to headbutt her attacker unconscious. She felt heated breath caressing the shell of her ear causing her body to instinctively recoil.

"Let her go, Snape. You don't even want her. I'll take her and we won't be a fucking problem anymore. Just - just let her go." Draco said, his voice drowning in exhaustion.

Hermione looked up to see a rather unfortunate cut sliced above his right brow and blood trickled from his nose. She felt a twinge of sympathy, as she was certainly feeling no better; but immediately stomped that bitch as far down into the deepest recesses of her mind as she possibly could - entrapping it better than that damn Stone had been in their first year. She _would not_ feel sympathy for either of these two men. No.

Her eyes flicked to the side trying to gauge Snape's reaction. He stared unblinking for a second then two, before he ran his tongue along the shell of her ear. "She's mine now, _boy_. Why don't you find that little prick of yours a new friend to play with?" His tongue peeked out once more to run across her cheek.

She watched as Malfoy stood slightly twitching, his eyes hard and focused. In the span of three breaths it seemed that he had come to some sort of decision. Time seemed to slow as everything seemed to happen at once and it wasn't until she gave herself a moment that she was able to put it all in order. Her eyes widened as within a blink of time, Malfoy snapped his arm up and sent off an unknown curse in their direction. What he hadn't anticipated, however, was Snape's hysterical laughter echoing around the clearing as he grabbed Hermione by the back of the neck and threw her into the line of fire.

She screamed as the putrid yellow light hit a bright silver light before crashing into her chest. Agony washed through her in constant waves. She felt her bones shatter, her lungs collapse, and her heart stop as her vision began to blacken. Blood sprayed from her mouth, ears, and nose as her body began to rapidly destroy itself from the inside out.

" _HERMIONE, NO!_ "

Her eardrums must have busted, she thought, as she couldn't have heard such an anguished voice screaming her name. That would imply someone cared, and everyone that cared for her was dead. A smile tugged at her lips, expelling more blood with each raspy intake of air, as she thought of all of the people she would be reunited with. Her friends. Her family. Everyone she had ever loved. Darkness began to close in on her peripheral and she welcomed the subtle feeling of peace that washed over her.

However, as all things were with Hermione, that contentment didn't last. Something sharp took hold of her heart and pulled it upwards. Hermione tried to scream, tried to force her body into motion to fight off whatever the hell was attacking her; but her body wouldn't move. She just floated there, immobile, as her body was ripped apart. After what seemed like hours upon hours of torture and her body being reassembled, she hit the ground with a strangled _oomph_. She lay there for who knew how long, struggling to breathe, her blood wetting the earth around her.

Faintly, her mind registered a gentle snapping sound and quiet footsteps. She tried to lift her head to look; but she could no longer move. All she could do was hope that whoever was approaching would ease her suffering and kill her. She shivered as pain racked her body, although she was numb to it. It's amazing how quickly your body will shut itself down to protect you from feeling such horrible pain if one has been feeling it long enough.

The footsteps stopped and she felt something rough gently poke her in the head. Once. Twice. She groaned and heard the footsteps retreat. She waited and sighed figuring the unknown stranger had left. She whimpered as she tried to move her body, but froze when the light footsteps grew closer.

"Lady?"

Hermione flinched at the overly loud sound although she guessed it wasn't much louder than normal. She tried to turn her head to acknowledge the boy who had spoken, but found she couldn't move. She sighed.

"Are you okay?"

Hermione mentally laughed at herself. Did she look okay? She cracked a small smile and forced every ounce of her remaining energy into opening her eyes. It took several minutes, her eyelids fluttering closed at the intensity of the light that surrounded her. Once she blinked the large black spots away she found that she was still in the clearing she had been in last night. Why hadn't they taken her? Killed her? Unless they thought she _had_ died. She groaned and let her eyes scan the clearing, stopping when they landed on a pair of dress shoes gently brushed by the hem of a pair of black pressed trousers.

She watched those feet scuffle nervously before shifting until he was kneeling before her. She watched as his shaking hands approached her face - halting every now and again as if he were afraid to touch her. Finally, they touched her aching skin and she let the pain out on a high-pitched hiss. He froze for only a moment, before gently lifting her head up further. Her vision swam at the motion, no matter how slow he had moved, before settling on a pair of eyes that were so startling familiar her mind shattered.

Just before darkness claimed her, a name fell from her lips on a broken sob.

" _Theo_."


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Hello my wonderful loveys! In light of how utterly delayed I was in giving you Chapter 20 I felt it only fair to pump this chapter out immediately. So, without further ado...here's Chapter 21! Enjoy! xo

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 **Part Two**

"It's a bloody miracle she's survived this long. It's a good job the boy found her when he did, otherwise…"

"Hmm, yes...but who is she? Any progress on that front?"

"No and, unfortunately, we probably won't know anything until the lass wakes up. We've begun lessening her potion intake, so hopefully she'll begin stirring soon."

The hushed voices filtered into the darkness that had consumed Hermione's mind, but they were dull to her senses as if her head had been submerged under water. Subconsciously, she knew something was _very_ wrong and as she tried to move her body, memories raced before her mind's eye in a blur. She felt an anguished sob building in her chest as she remembered dying - _dying_ \- in that clearing and that _boy_. That boy with the all too familiar eyes. She internally shuddered and slipped further within the darkness. Anything to relieve the pain.

Hours, possibly days, later she felt something stir her interest. There were voices again, their words somehow sharper than before. She allowed her mental blocks to lose a bit of strength and focused as the new visitor's voice caused something to itch in the back of her brain - like she knew this voice, but her mind wasn't ready to accept it.

"How is she today, Dr. McGuire?"

"She's stable, but I'm worried that if she doesn't wake up soon there may be irreparable damage both physically and mentally. With the severity of her injuries, she's already looking at two months of strenuous physical therapy, let alone whatever counseling she's going to need after surviving whatever the bloody hell happened to her."

The other man made a thoughtful noise, his robes swishing against the floor softly as he moved closer. "How long has she been like this?"

"A month, tomorrow. We've tried everything we know to do, but something inside her is keeping us out."

"You've tried legilimency?"

"Of course, but as I said she's blocking us somehow. My best assumption is that whatever trauma she's suffered, it was bad enough for her to mentally shut herself off. I've had my best people working on her, but we try not to completely force our way in."

Hermione's brain stuttered. _I've been here a month?_ She tried to collect her thoughts on the matter, but they slipped through her fingers like water. All she could remember was the oppressive darkness. She felt herself beginning to retreat once more, but something about this new man made her want to stay. She _needed_ to know who it was; however, her will wasn't strong enough quite yet, so she internally sighed and let the darkness take her.

When she awoke again, it didn't feel like so much time had passed - maybe a day, or three. She mentally looked out to see what had caught her interest when she heard the familiar voice speak again.

"Ah, Nurse Young, pleasure as always."

A feminine voice spoke up in obvious delight. "What a lovely surprise! What can I do for you today? I'm afraid Doctor McGuire is working with another patient at the moment."

The man chuckled. "That's quite alright, dear. Have there been any changes?"

The Nurse sighed. "No and, unfortunately, there've been talks about pulling her off the life support. Her body has healed at a spectacular rate, but if she doesn't wake in the next couple of days Dr. McGuire says he'll have no choice but to announce her brain dead."

"Unfortunate, indeed. I may have an idea of how to bring her back, if you'd allow a foolish old man his eccentricities."

"I don't see how it could make anything worse. What do you plan on doing? If you don't mind my asking."

"One moment," the Headmaster muttered as Hermione listened to him walk further away before quickly walking back with two sets of footsteps following him. Silence blanketed the room, the overly loud beeping of the machine next to her ringing in her ears. Hermione could feel her anxieties getting the best of her as she waited for whatever was supposed to happen to happen.

She heard hushed, angry muttering and a possible _Why me?_ off to her right and then a set of startled footsteps as if whoever was approaching her had been pushed. That surprised her, but then again she wouldn't want to get close to an unknown, nearly dead woman either. She internally chuckled as she sat and waited for whoever was pushed to speak. She wasn't prepared.

"Um...hullo."

Little Hermione, as her mind had come to associate with the little person that had projected itself in her head, jumped to her feet wide-eyed. She bounced on the balls of her feet before pushing off and running, struggling through the thickening darkness in an attempt to get closer. To get closer to _him_.

"Keep talking, it's alright." the nurse urged in a soothing tone that nearly made Hermione want to rip the unknown woman's face off.

He cleared his throat. "So. You're not dead. That's good...I guess. The Doctor said you need to wake up soon. So. You should probably wake up."

Little Hermione threw her body at the mental shield that was already beginning to show strain along the edges. She nearly laughed in triumph as she heard the ominous cracking and grinned in delight as she punched her fist through a thin layer and reached for the softly glowing light - her hand gently coming to rest atop it. She felt her body come back online in a surge of electric tingles, but the pain was secondary to the excitement that was bubbling inside her. She still couldn't move properly and her eyes were being stubborn, but she _was_ able to force enough energy into her left hand to make it twitch a few times.

"Well done, my boy!" the Man cheered, delight evident in his voice.

Nurse Young gasped. "I need get Dr. McGuire. I'll just be a moment!" she shouted as her hurried footsteps left the room.

"She didn't wake up though." the boy said, confused.

"Oh, but she did. Her hand moved. Just there. Look, it's happening again. This is simply marvelous."

A man Hermione didn't know chose that moment to speak up. "This is utterly ridiculous. How is it that my son was able to do something the doctors could not? Especially for someone he's never even met before."

"That _does_ appear to be the question, doesn't it, Mr. Nott?"

"What did you _do_?" the familiar voice of the Doctor reached Hermione's ears. Though it was far from an angry accusation.

The Man chuckled in delight. "Oh _I_ did nothing. I simply bore witness to another miracle, as you would say; but I do think you'll find your patient a bit more responsive."

The Doctor approached Hermione carefully and began muttering under his breath what Hermione could only assume were some sort of medical diagnostic spells. She didn't care what the guy was doing as long as it allowed her to open her eyes so she could see. See _him_. She waited and waited, but nothing was happening. She couldn't help the resulting growl of frustration and she may or may not have muttered, "It seems incompetence even runs in Doctors these days."

Everything in the room seemed to stop for the span of a single breath, before the Doctor began shouting out orders to an influx of Hospital staff, the boy was asking his dad if they could leave now, and the Man - well, she assumed it was the Man - was simply humming a pleasant little tune under his breath.

Within moments the room quieted and the doctor breathed heavily on an exhale, his words dripping in excitement. "Miss? I need you to try and open your eyes. We've turned out the lights to ease the transition, but you may still experience some difficulty."

Hermione tried to do as the good Doctor asked, but found that after a few flutters of her eyelids she couldn't and her face twisted into a pained grimace. "I didn't know eyelids could hurt."

"That's quite alright, Miss. It's to be expected. I'm Dr. McGuire. Can you tell me your name?"

"Her…" she croaked, her dry tongue darting out in an attempt to wet her even drier lips, "Hermione."

"Okay, Hermione, just relax and we'll take care of you. St. Mungo's is renowned for treating severe trauma patients. You're in good hands."

The fog that had been blanketing her mind suddenly cleared at the realization of where - exactly - she was. She knew she had been in a hospital of some kind, knew there were doctors and nurses taking care of her broken body. What she _didn't_ know was how she had gotten here. She thought back to the last thing she could remember and panicked. Surely he wouldn't have brought her _here_. He _knew_ these people would kill her. So why were they helping her? Morbid thoughts of how they probably wanted her completely healed so they could play with her floated around her head in nauseating waves.

Thankfully, her body decided it was in its best interest to move - to escape - so it did so as a flood of panic-induced adrenaline washed through her. She flailed her arms and legs as she tried to move off the bed. Her heart stuttered in her chest as her breathing grew heavy and erratic. "Can't be here! Can't be here!" she screamed hoarsely as arms from all sides tried to hold her down to the bed.

"Why can't you be here?" the Man spoke.

Hermione felt tears leak from beneath her lashes as the oncoming panic attack began to take hold. She sobbed her voice breaking as she whispered _Voldemort_ over and over.

"Who's Voldemort, Hermione?" McGuire asked and for a moment it felt as if her panic would subside just long enough for her to - finally - open her eyes and settle him with a glacial look.

"How can you not know who he is?!" she shouted, her right arm free from whomever had been holding it down. "He'll kill me. He'll find me here and kill me. I can't. I can't! Let me go! _Let me go_!"

She felt hands frame her face and forcefully coax her jaw apart. She struggled more as a nasty as hell concoction was poured in her mouth. She gagged and coughed trying to spit whatever they were giving her out. She needed to _leave_. Why didn't they understand that? She felt some of the liquid drip down her throat in a small, but steady stream and she cried. She cried because she was supposed to die; but these people had healed her - prolonging the sweet death she craved.

"Who's Voldemort, Hermione?" the Man asked in as soothing a tone as he could muster.

Hermione sobbed as her body grew heavy, her movements sluggish. Whatever they had given her was forcing her into a restful state and she most certainly did _not_ want to be in one. Her eyes flickered open - fighting the nagging urge to sleep - to stare into icy blue eyes hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses. Eyes that were once unseeing, in a broken body, beneath the Tower four years ago.

"You're dead."

He chuckled. "I can assure you I'm quite alive."

Hermione's eyes widened further until the whites were clearly visible around her irises. She jerked her head from side to side in uncontrolled spasms as the implications of what he just said sunk in. A sob broke through her chapped lips as she stared in shock and dread up at the man who had been a figurehead in her childhood. A man the wizarding world knew as Albus Dumbledore.

"You're supposed to be dead." she whispered harshly, "What day is it? _What day is it?!_ "

Dumbledore looked down on her with kind eyes. "I do believe it's Thursday, the twenty-fifth of April. You've been out of it for just over a month. It's to be expected that you're a bit disoriented."

"Year! What's the year?!"

A thin line began to form between his white-haired brows as he flicked his eyes up to McGuire and then back down towards her, seemingly thinking over what exactly was happening. "It's 1991, Hermione."

Hermione promptly passed out.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

Warnings: Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

A/N: Alright here's Chapter 22! I tried to proofread this while multitasking with cooking and entertaining my needy child, so I apologize if there's any crazy obvious errors here. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! xo

* * *

Hermione sat atop the overly-starched sheets of her hospital bed staring blankly at the wall across from her. She had woken from her little fainting spell nearly an hour ago and had promptly removed everyone from her room, with the exception of her old Headmaster. _Current Headmaster_? She shook her head. Dumbledore had allowed her to sit in silence for the most-part, giving her the time to come to terms with what had happened. Healer McGuire - apparently he felt comfortable to refer to himself as such now that he knew _she_ knew she was a witch - had patiently explained to her that feeling as disoriented as she was, was very common after being in a coma for so long. Hermione had scoffed at his unintentional condescending attitude. She wasn't stupid. She knew _exactly_ \- or near enough - what had happened.

She had gone back in time. Well, not _her_ time, anyways, or so she assumed. She only learned enough about time-travel so McGonagall would permit her the use of the time-turner in her third year; but, anything more complicated than that was beyond her. She knew the man sitting quietly next to her would probably have answers, but one thing she _did_ know was to _always_ be careful when asking questions and, in turn, giving answers.

She sighed, letting her eyes drop to her fidgeting hands. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came forth. She grunted and flicked her eyes up to her overly-cheerful companion. She felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of her eyes as she took him in: long white beard, sparkling blue eyes, flamboyant wizarding robes. He was just as she remembered, so _why_ did no one know who _Voldemort_ , of all people, was?

"Quid pro quo, Professor." Hermione startled herself, as she recognized that it had been _her_ voice that had spoken the question. She mentally smacked herself for her subtly.

She watched as Dumbledore's brows climbed up his forehead in surprise, "I beg your pardon?"

She refrained from rolling her eyes - just barely. "Quid pro quo. For each question you ask, I get to ask one in return. Once we're satisfied, then we can both be on our way."

He bobbed his head from side to side as he seemed to mull the possibilities over. "I can agree to that; however, you have me at a disadvantage. You already know my name; what, pray tell, is yours?"

She opened her mouth to answer him when a startling realization smacked her upside the head. Somewhere, there was an eleven-year-old version of herself running around expecting to start Hogwarts in the fall. Her eyes widened further upon thinking on how, exactly, she was going to deal with _that_. She certainly couldn't run into herself. McGonagall had explicitly said that was a bad idea. She watched him carefully, "Hermione Granger."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, his wrinkled hands running through his beard. "Lovely to meet you, Miss Granger Now, go on and ask your question. You're practically vibrating over there."

Hermione sat silently as she tried to organize her thoughts, absently picking at the edge of her broken thumb nail until a single drop of blood appeared. The gentle clearing of a throat forced her back to the present. Deciding to get on with it, she inhaled air into her lungs until they felt as if they would combust, before exhaling her question in a rush. " _Whatdoyouknowabouttimetravel?"_

Dumbledore blinked, slowly. "What was that, Miss Granger?"

"What do you know about time travel?...Please...Sir?" she mentally groaned at how utterly thick she was behaving. If she wasn't careful the staff would admit her into the Janus Thickey ward and wash their hands of her. "That is...what I mean to say... _damn it_!" Slapping her hands against her face, she sagged further on the bed - utterly embarrassed that, for whatever reason, she couldn't get her thoughts across properly.

"Ah, I thought that's what you asked. Makes sense, really." Dumbledore hummed, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Hermione peeked through her fingers in disbelief, "It makes sense? Really?"

He nodded. "Of course. You _did_ ask what the year was, after all; and I'm working off the assumption that, no matter the trauma you've recently experienced, one does not simply faint due to discovering the date….well, unless there's more to it than the obvious." He took her silence as agreement enough, pausing momentarily to smooth the non-existent wrinkles in his robes. "Right. Time-travel is not my specialty, but I shall endeavor to explain it to you the best I can, using the way I was taught."

"Imagine a spider's web. At its center, you'll find the focal-point where all things begin. Now, for visualization purposes, let's say there are five lines emerging from that focal-point. These lines represent scenarios to which creates the base for our possibilities. These possibilities are all of the little webbings that link our major lines together. These connections can have either a small or large impact; anything from someone getting a simple cold to the world's destruction. Am I making sense so far?"

Hermione blinked rapidly as she tried to follow what the Professor was telling her. The words _world destruction_ bouncing around her brain like a nauseating game of table tennis. She cleared her throat and shifted on the bed to face him more fully. "I _think_ so. Maybe? So, does this mean I've somehow stumbled into some kind of alternate universe?"

Dumbledore hummed. "Yes and no, I think. It _could_ be considered a different universe to _you_ ; because, well, you've only ever known your timeline. However, we all exist in the same universe. I guess the best way to think of it is that you've basically taken a slight step to the left. You're heading in the same direction, but on a slightly different path." He chuckled. "Merlin, I do believe I'm bungling this up for you. Let's try again, shall we?"

He cleared his throat. "Time is more fluid - like water - rather than fixed - like a repeater. I'm sure you've been told since you were just a child that any action ultimately results in a _re_ action, or however the muggles explain it. Basically, the choices we as a people make shape our timeline in various ways. I could decide to postpone informing the Minister of what we've spoken about here and that could result in either prosperous or ominous reactions for either of us. So, as you can see, the single line of the web represents the talk we are having now and the little webbings connecting the major lines together are the positive or negative reactions and the subsequent changes. The intricacies of this are absolutely beyond me and I'm afraid if I think any harder on it my brain just may well break."

Hermione softly laughed her agreement, her hands dragging across her face in exhaustion. She thought over his explanation and agreed that it would make sense in the scheme of things. It would also allow the possibility of why no one here knew of Voldemort. He simply hadn't made the choice to kill people - which was great, right? Then again, she had always been taught that everything must remain balanced and no world is ever fully good. So...what the hell did that mean? Could Riddle's possible actions simply be delayed in this timeline? Could they be dealing with someone - or some _thing_ \- worse than she already knew?

" _For fuck's sake!_ " she snapped just before her eyes widened frantically, jerking her head up to look at her old Headmaster. "I'm so sorry, Professor! I thought I said that in my head!"

He merely laughed softly and shook his head. "It's quite alright. I gathered you were working through something important as you were staring at that wall rather intently. Now, how is it you know me? Were you one of my students perhaps?"

Hermione slowly nodded, ultimately deciding that the answer to his question wouldn't result in dire consequences, at least she hoped not. "Yes. Gryffindor."

He nodded, a smile breaking across his face. "So I take it you know Minerva then?"

She couldn't control the pain that briefly flashed in her eyes at the mention of her old mentor, but quickly pushed it away. "Professor McGonagall? Sure. She's a wonderful Transfiguration teacher."

"Indeed she is."

Silence fell around the two causing Hermione to twitch in place. She let her mind wander when another realization hit and she nearly toppled over the side of the bed. _I'm eleven-years-old in this time. Which means..._ The color began to slowly drain from her face as she thought that through. Her lover was now an _eleven-year-old boy_. A _child_. Nausea welled up, the harsh burn of bile burning the back of her throat. She had only a moment to shout a warning to Dumbledore before the meager contents of her stomach - mostly acid and an assortment of potions - were emptied into a bedpan he had managed to levitate towards her.

"Miss Granger, are you alright?" he asked after _Vanishing_ the evidence of her sickness.

She dragged her forearm across her mouth and gagged once more before pulling herself together. "Yes. Fine, thanks. Just thought of something rather unpleasant."

Blue eyes regarded her curiously before lighting up with that oh-so-familiar twinkle of his. "Well, I believe that's enough for the day. In fact, we should probably discuss what you're going to say to the Aurors that will be here in...two minutes."

"Aurors?"

He nodded. "Yes, they'll want to speak with you about what happened to leave you in such a state. Now, I'm sure you'll agree that the hows and whys of you being here are a bit...delicate. Enough so that we need to keep this between us for the foreseeable future."

Hermione stared at him silently. She hadn't even thought about what she should say. She hadn't really expected to be interviewed about anything at all. Then again, when a mysterious bloodied and broken woman just happens to pop up out of nowhere, that _does_ tend to spark some interest. She muttered a string of curses under her breath before resigning herself to the fact she had no other choices. She certainly couldn't have them putting their noses where they didn't belong.

She thought over what she could possibly say to the Aurors and nothing came. It would have helped if her parents had been magically inclined; but, as with everything that entailed Hermione's life, nothing ever came easy. She opened her mouth to see if Dumbledore had any suggestions, but froze as footsteps stopped just outside her door. She could hear the faint murmur of voices before a series of knocks sounded. She glanced over at Dumbledore, giving him a small nod for him to allow them into the room.

They were laughing about something as they pushed the door open and Hermione decided it was probably in her best interest to recline on the bed. She closed her eyes and tried to come up with a somewhat believable story as the two Aurors greeted Dumbledore. They talked in quiet tones, most likely assuming she was asleep. Once she felt comfortable enough to answer their questions, she opened her eyes and turned to smile.

"Hell...o..." she managed to croak out as she stared up into familiar silver-grey eyes. It was as if the room had become a vacuum - all breathable air sucked out in a fraction of a second. Her eyes widened as she took in the aristocratic features that looked much, _much_ younger than last she saw them and the thick wavy black hair that brushed the top of leather clad shoulders.

"Hi, yourself." He said, an amused smile beginning to tug at the corners of his lips. "How are you today, beautiful?"

"Seriously, Pads? She's just been severely traumatized. Let's not add to it, shall we?"

Sirius' grin was all teeth as he winked. "I'm just asking a question. Nothing to get your knickers in a twist over."

"She doesn't even look of age, Sirius!" the other man paused, "Gods, please tell me you're of age."

Hermione, with herculean effort, tore her gaze away from a still grinning Sirius and looked over towards his partner. Her vision swam with black spots and the room tilted at an odd angle as she felt her suddenly upright body topple over. The last thing she saw before the darkness took her, was of a man who looked so _very much_ like her Harry, but with bright hazel eyes.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Okay, I received a review where a reader expressed some confusion about what was happening. So, in the event there are others who are confused, I figured outlining a timeline would help. The Battle of Hogwarts took place on 2 May 1998. This story starts three years later in 2001 which makes Hermione twenty-two now. Thanks to Draco and his unknown curse, she has traveled _back_ to 1991 which is when she, and her friends, would have been eleven years old and about to start Hogwarts.

Now for Sirius. He was born in 1959 which makes him thirty-two in 1991 (exactly ten years older than Hermione). He _is_ going to look younger than last she saw him for two reasons. They are: when she first met him he was pushing forty _and_ he had spent the better half of his life in Azkaban, making him appear more aged than he truly was. I hope this clears things up; but, if it doesn't, let me know.

* * *

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the black spots floating around her and found herself looking up at the ceiling. Well, she would have, if it weren't for the four heads currently blocking her view as they stared down at her in various forms of concern and amusement. She released a startled yelp and began pushing everyone away before letting her hands drop to her face and groaning. She couldn't decide if she was more embarrassed or angry about fainting _again_ ; regardless, they were both present and heating up her cheeks. In all of her twenty-two years of life never had she fainted so much as she had in the past twenty-four hours.

" _Bleedin'_ _Chri-_ " she slammed her mouth shut before she could finish that thought, sending an apologetic glance up at Dumbledore. _I_ seriously _need to work on that._ He merely chuckled before sitting back down in his chair and crossing his legs at the ankles. She tried to ignore how odd it was to see the older man so relaxed, especially in the presence of a practical stranger. Although, Dumbledore could probably obliterate her with a flutter of his eyelashes so she guessed it wasn't that odd.

She quickly glanced away from the two Aurors - one of which was staring at her with ill-concealed humor - and stared daggers at the Healer. "This is going to go away, right?"

"Ah, don't worry, love. You're certainly not the first to faint in my presence. It's the Black blood, you see? We're an irresistible lot."

Hermione whipped her head around so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash - shooting him a glacial look. Unfortunately, that look lessened in intensity rather quickly as she got her first good look at him. His face no longer showed extreme lines of aging, nor looked pinched under the strain she had seen him so often conceal. He was taller than she remembered and had more muscle on his lean frame compared to the just-better-than skin and bones he had been after escaping Azkaban. Said body was currently dressed in a pair of dark-washed jeans, fitted black shirt, and the notorious black leather jacket she had heard so much about. He looked good. _Really_ good.

"I'll thank _you_ to keep your unnecessary comments to yourself. Unless you're a licensed Healer staffed by this Hospital? No? Glad that's settled." she returned her attention to the actual Healer in the room, nearly missing the subtle shaking of not-Harry's shoulders as he attempted to hold in his laughter; and _completely_ ignoring Sirius muttering under his breath about a kitten and her claws. "Healer McGuire. This _will_ stop happening, right? Because I can assure you I will be a _very_ unpleasant patient if this continues."

McGuire nodded, his eyes scanning over the clipboard he currently held in his hand. "It's completely normal. You've been unconscious for so long your mind is most likely adjusting to being awake again. If it doesn't stop in the next few days we'll run a scan and see if there's any damage we didn't originally pick up on; but, as of right now, it is nothing to fret over, I assure you." He glanced over to the Aurors, a thin line beginning to form between his bushy, red brows. "I'll ask that you please keep in mind that my patient has not been awake for more than a day, so keep your questions brief. She needs her rest."

They nodded their consent, which seemed to satisfy McGuire well enough, as he left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"I suppose you have questions, Misters…?" she asked, praying to every god she knew that she had somehow eaten a _very_ bad batch of brownies from Theo and this was all some elaborate hallucination.

Not-Harry stepped forward. "I'm Auror James Potter," Hermione's heart stopped for a second before picking back up rapidly, "and this is my partner, Auror Sirius Black. We'd like to ask you some questions about what happened to you, okay?"

She gave him a simple nod of acknowledgement and he smiled. "Wonderful. What's your name, Miss?"

Hermione let her eyes roam over this anomaly of a man who looked the spitting image of Harry. He had the same dark, unruly hair - a few tufts sticking up in the back in odd directions. His hazel eyes were hidden behind thin-framed glasses that sat atop a slightly crooked nose - no doubt from some form of Quidditch accident. He stood tall, but whereas Sirius had the body suited to a swimmer; James' was that of a well-built football player or some such athlete. Stocky came to mind, but not overly-so. He looked good too and that completely squicked her the hell out.

Noticing James was staring at her, his eyebrows inching further up his forehead, Hermione remembered he had asked for her name. "Hermione Granger."

His head perked up from the small notepad he was currently writing on. "Granger? Are you by chance related to Hector Dagworth-Granger?"

She gave a simple nod, not entirely sure what to say; but internally grinning nonetheless. A faint memory of Professor Slughorn asking her the same during one of his atrocious Slug Club meetings flickered to life. Maybe she _could_ come out of this relatively unscathed; then, maybe, she could be left in peace long enough to get the hell out of there. "Yes, distantly of course. I believe," she paused to count on her fingers, "he's my thrice-great uncle."

He smiled. "Nice. Alright, Miss Granger, can you please describe all you remember of the incident?"

Hermione took the time to relax into the bed, closing her eyes as vivid images of what _actually_ happened tore through her mind. She didn't have to work too hard on the pained grimace that twisted her face as phantom pains of the accident tore through her. "I was in the process of creating a particularly vexing potion, when an ingredient I used reacted badly." She paused. "It's my own fault really. I was over-tired. The backfire of the polluted potion caused a minor implosion and, to keep myself from being obliterated, I somehow managed to apparate out. I have no idea why that clearing in the Forest came to mind. Fortunately, Mr. Nott's son stumbled upon me and was able to get help."

"Fortunate, indeed." James mumbled as he continued to diligently document her words.

"Any idea why the ingredient reacted badly?" Sirius asked, his arms coming to cross over his chest. "What potion were you trying to make anyways? I've never heard of one just exploding."

Hermione nearly gave herself a pat on the back for not staring overly-long at his broad shoulders and what appeared to be _very_ well-toned pectorals. She cleared her throat, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Like I said, I was over-tired. I know better than to practice magic when I'm borderline exhausted, but I'm also stubborn as hell and was determined to finish it. Typically, I'm okay, I know my limits. I guess I just got a tad overconfident in my abilities this time round. So, I could have added it just a moment too early or too late. Or I bought a bad batch. As for the potion, I was making a batch of _Felix Felicis_."

His eyebrows rose, "Really? And what would you need liquid luck for?"

Hermione smiled, blinking up at him slowly, "Maybe I was hoping it would spare me from having to deal with people lacking common sense for a day."

Sirius smirked, his eyes lazily trailing over her face - momentarily locking on her mouth before shooting back up to meet her eyes. "Your Healer said you were rambling about someone named Voldemort? Can you give us any insight on who that might be? He said you were acting like your life was in danger. He also said, and I quote," he paused to look down at his notepad, " _He'll kill me. He'll find me here and kill me. I can't. I can't! Let me go! Let me go_!

Hermione tried for the most innocent facial expression she could muster as her mind began conjuring vivid images of meticulously ripping out her dear Healer's intestines through his nostrils and then feeding them back to him. She cleared her throat. "No, I'm sorry. To be honest, I got a rather good smacking, as I'm sure the Healer can tell you, and the whole incident is still a bit blurry for me. Healer McGuire said the fog should clear soon enough. Maybe I'll remember something then."

Sirius stared down at her silently. His brows moving closer together as, she could only assume, he thought something over. She would have liked to say that the look was odd for him, but she knew what Azkaban had done to his other self. His current expression looked more like a slightly constipated puppy, to which amused her to no end. She concealed her snickering by forcing out a strangled cough behind her hand, muttering a _sorry_ once she had control of herself.

After a few more moments, he smiled once more and turned to James. "Anything else?"

James shook his head, tousled black strands brushing against his forehead. "I believe that's it for the time being. We apologize for disturbing you during this time of healing, but unfortunately it's protocol. Do you have somewhere we can reach you in the event something else arises?"

Before Hermione could formulate some form of response, Dumbledore cut her off. "She'll be here until her full recovery which I believe Healer McGuire estimates to be the end of June."

Both men nodded before saying their thanks and heading towards the door. Hermione turned to watch them leave, rolling her eyes as Sirius turned around to wink at her and throw out a "See ya, Kitten" before saluting them both and shutting the door behind him. She couldn't help the smile that was beginning to tug at her lips as she averted her eyes back to the blanket and her scarred, yet clean, hands. It would seem no matter where - or rather _when_ \- she was, she'd never escape his pet name for her.

"I take it you know them?" Dumbledore asked, his hand once more going to run through his beard.

Hermione shrugged. She wished she could have said _yes_ with absolute conviction, but she couldn't. She had only known Sirius for two short years before he fell into the Veil and James...yeah, best not to dwell on _that_. "I guess you could say that."

She grew quiet as she thought about Sirius...and James. God, if James was alive that would mean Lily was alive. Right? Which would also mean that Harry had his parents. _Both_ of them. She felt her eyes begin to sting and a smile pull at her lips as she realized her best friend, her brother in all but blood, had love in his life. He had grown up in a _home_...in a bed, probably tucked in every night with a book...rather than beaten and shoved into a cupboard under the stairs. The tears fell quietly as she thanked the Fates that at least in this timeline, he had grown up with everything he deserved.

She quickly wiped her cheeks dry and inhaled deeply, slowly releasing on an exhale as a sense of peace washed over her. She nodded to herself and looked up towards Dumbledore who had apparently been watching her quietly. He gave her a small smile, eyes twinkling behind those wire-rimmed glasses. "Thank you, Professor."

His eyebrows shot upward. "For what, Miss Granger?"

"For taking the time to visit a severely wounded girl and helping her come back. I don't think I could ever repay you for that."

He simply chuckled, his wrinkled hand gently patting the top of her fidgeting one. "Only time will tell, Miss Granger. Only time will tell."


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Soooo, I know I said this next chapter wouldn't be out til later this week, but I couldn't help myself. This story is picking up momentum in the writing department so I figured, eh why not? If you're looking for another moment with Sirius, I'm sorry he hasn't shown up quite yet; _but_ he will make another grand entrance in a couple more chapters and grow in presence from there on out. Swear! Enjoy!

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"It's been three weeks! I'm sure I'll manage using the bathroom by myself!"

"But, Miss Granger, the Healer said…"

"I don't give two-bloody-fucks what the Healer said! I'm going to use the bathroom _without_ you there! Now, be a dear, and _bugger off_!"

"But…"

Hermione growled low in her throat, slamming the bathroom door shut before magically sealing it. Glaring fiercely at the paint-chipped wood, she turned on her heel and stomped over to the standing shower. Flicking her wrist, the water began pouring out of the showerhead, steam floating up in thin tendrils. She mumbled various curses under her breath as she proceeded to remove the hideous hospital gown she was apparently required to wear throughout her stay here and threw it in the sink. To say she was completely over being coddled and the like was an understatement.

Quickly slipping under the stream of water, she exhaled a sigh of relief as its warmth began to slowly unknot her tense muscles. It had been three weeks since she had woken up in this blasted hospital. Three weeks of constant monitoring and grueling physical therapy. Fortunately, her new Healer had said she was making splendid progress and might be released before the end of June. She smiled at that thought and began to scrub herself vigorously with the Hospital-provided soaps until her skin was a light pink.

Carefully, she grabbed the supporting rail that had been mounted to the wall and lowered herself to the floor. Although she _had_ made progress, her bloody legs could only support her for so long before growing shaky and demanding her body rest. Keeping in mind that the harder she worked in therapy, the more her muscles would strengthen and thus cooperate, had her somewhat managing the incessant coddling of the Hospital staff.

Sighing, she slapped her hands against her now-calm thighs and slowly worked her way back up to her feet being careful of the water pooling on the slick tiles. She grabbed the towel from the metal hook and wrapped it around her body before approaching the fogged up mirror. Swiping her hand back and forth across the glass, she stared quietly at herself. Thanks to the multiple potions, actual meals, and physical therapy she nearly looked the image of her old self; rather than the shell of a person she had been no more than two months ago. Her cheekbones were no longer so pronounced and the bags under her eyes had begun to slowly disappear as she caught up on much needed sleep. Her eyes fell slightly lower and noticed that her ribs were now hidden behind a burgeoning layer of healthy fat.

A ghost of a smile pulled at her lips as she turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes trailed over the brightly colored tattoos that decorated her back, until they located a series of golden dots connected by a thin white line just above the right cheek of her bum. She reached behind with her right hand and let the pads of her fingers gently run over the simple art.

 _Sirius._

She continued to smile as she traced the lines with her index finger, over and over, before letting her hand fall away slowly. Quietly humming to herself, she began to dry herself completely as her mind reviewed everything she had learned since waking up. Sirius and James were both alive and doing quite well, it would seem at least. _Does that mean Remus is here, too?_ Her body froze in mid-motion, the towel halfway wrapped around her dripping hair, as a sickening thought struck her. _Was Peter..._ She shook her head, not willing to comprehend that possibility, if there was one.

Grumbling under her breath, she pulled open the bathroom door and grabbed the new hospital gown off the bed, grimacing at the unsightly putrid green polka-dots that decorated the overly-stiff garment. Quickly pulling it over her head, she walked towards the door to her room and slipped on a pair of over-sized slippers - of which slapped the floor every time she took a step. Deciding enough was enough, she grabbed her wand from the nightstand and began making alterations.

After about ten minutes of precise wand-work, she managed to make the gown a more reasonable size for her body. She also banished the polka-dots in favor of changing the damn thing to a soft, light green color that was _much_ more appealing. To finish everything off, she shrunk the slippers to a proper size - one that didn't have her nearly tripping over herself as she clenched her toes to keep the blasted things on.

Nodding in approval, she left her room in search of the cafeteria hoping that they weren't serving shepherd's pie, _again_. As she grabbed the standard, plastic tray she thought about how funny it was that all of a sudden she had the opportunity to be picky; whereas a couple months ago she was eating whatever she could get her hands on. Now, she wasn't overly picky - not really - but one could only take so many servings of the same meal within fourteen days. Even when she was half starved to death, she didn't eat the same thing every day. That wasn't a luxury she could afford.

She scanned the offerings and paused mid-step as her eyes zeroed in on a tub filled with steaming-cheesy-goodness. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to not push her way through the small line and secret the tub of deliciousness away. To say Hermione had a rather obscene obsession with macaroni-and-cheese - also known as liquid gold ambrosia - she would heartily agree.

Eagerly bouncing on the balls of her feet, ignoring the slight spasms in her calf muscles, she edged further down the line until she was having the cheesy pasta scooped onto her plate - with a flutter of her eyelashes, she got two. Humming happily, she looked around the semi-packed eating space and started for a table towards the back. With a hop in her step, she tried to make her way around a table when her legs started shaking in jerky spasms. With a grunt, and by no means in any way graceful, she slumped over in the next available chair - being especially careful to set her tray on the tabletop.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?"

Hermione internally cringed. She wasn't _nearly_ old enough to be referred to as ma'am, _was she_? "Yes, sorry for interrupting your lunch so rude-" she paused as she finally looked up from her legs and stared across the table at the chubby-cheeked, brown-eyed boy. "Ne…" she cleared her throat, catching herself before she made a terrible mistake. "Sorry, rudely. My legs have a mind of their own sometimes." she smiled, as she pointed towards her shaking legs.

He smiled shyly up at her, "That's alright. I'm just waiting on my Gran to get back from speaking with the Healer. Please, go ahead. You're not bothering me."

Hermione nodded, a small smile playing at her lips, as she began to eagerly impale the cheese covered noodles. "So, what brings you here? Are you sick?"

He shook his head and sighed, "No, it's my mum and dad. Gran brings me to visit every now and again."

Her eyes widened fractionally, before she darted them back down to her plate. "I'm sorry to hear that. How long have they been here? If you don't mind my asking, of course."

He laughed nervously, his eyes always focused elsewhere but her face. "They've been here since a little after I was born. They're patients in the Janus Thickey ward. They're _not_ crazy." he paused, his fingers knotting themselves around one another, "Well, they weren't _born_ crazy. They were Aurors, you know, and really good ones! But Gran says they had terrible enemies and eventually that life caught up with them. It's okay, though, because Gran says that they've been locked away in Azkaban and can't hurt anyone else now."

Hermione swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. _I suppose the Lestranges are as demented here as they were in my time. Poor, Neville_ , she thought as she looked up towards the overly-awkward little boy. She smiled sadly as she remembered the courageous man he had grown into and how that same man grew to become especially skilled with his…

She choked on the piece of macaroni that had lodged itself in her windpipe. Her eyes watered instantly, as her face grew red. Neville, startled, jumped from his seat and began frantically smacking the center of her back with the palm of his hand. After a few more seconds, the piece was finally dislodged enough for her to properly swallow, leaving Hermione to sit there gasping for breath. " _Godsda-_ " she cleared her throat, thinking how she _especially_ needed to reinsert the filter between her brain and mouth again, "Thank you. Sorry 'bout that. Not sure what happened just then." _Sure you don't, Hermione. You're as demented as the Lestranges, you bloody pervert! He's_ eleven! _Not the man you knew!_

"That's okay. I choke when I eat too fast, too. Gran always tells me off for it." He laughed softly as he retook his seat. "So, what are you here for? What happened to your legs?"

After fully collecting herself, she pushed away the cause of her near-death experience and relaxed into her chair. "A potion and I had a disagreement, of sorts. I threw something at it and it angrily exploded in my face - literally."

Neville released a full-belly laugh and smiled up at her. "You're funny. My name's Neville, by the way. Neville Longbottom."

He offered his hand and Hermione couldn't help but smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Neville...or should I say Lord Longbottom?"

A blush, so red Hermione was slightly panicked he was about to burst a coronary, lit the young boy's cheeks as he began to stutter. "G-Gran s-s-says that w-we shouldn't ref-refer to ourselves th-that way. That...that...we don't need to f-flaunt o-our status to...to the world. We're not like the Malfoys and B-Blacks...so...just, Neville...please."

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her as she looked down on the awkward, yet proud, boy. Although he stuttered his way through it, he had managed to speak his mind on the matter and that greatly impressed her. She tilted her head to the side and offered him a gentle smile, "Neville, then. I'm Hermione Granger and it's a pleasure to meet you."

He nodded his head quickly, but turned as an elderly woman with a great big bird of a hat sauntered into the room. "Oh, there's my Gran. I better go, then. It was lovely meeting you as well! I hope you get well soon!" he paused mid-step and cleared his throat, "If you're still here when I come back...I mean...do you think it'd be okay if I come visit you too? If...if that's okay with you o-of course."

Hermione responded with a simple _of course_ and waved her goodbye as she watched her new friend hurry to his grandmother's side and exit the cafeteria. She looked back down at her nearly-empty plate and sighed. She felt the prickle of tears and a burn at the back of her throat as she tried to cope with what had just happened. Neville was alive, but his parents had still been tortured into insanity by the Lestranges. Although Neville seemed to be appeased by the fact that they were locked away in Azkaban, he was too naive to know that it was _completely_ possible to breakout of the prison, under special circumstances. _Azkaban is too good for them,_ she thought, her very soul angry that such an injustice had _still_ managed to happen here and angry with _herself_ because she knew there wasn't anything she could do about it. _Then again..._

Nodding her head, she took her tray and disposed of its meager contents in the bin and left the cafeteria heading for the lifts. As the gate closed, she made a split-second decision to hit Level Four rather than her own Level Three. After a couple of nauseating seconds, the bell chimed and the gates opened. She quickly stepped out before anyone could question why, exactly, she was there. She looked around the small lobby and noticed that the receptionist's desk was empty. Bobbing her head side-to-side, she hurried over to the desk and grabbed a Visitor's Pass dangling from a metal hook.

Smiling to herself and her cleverness, she marched over to the door and pressed the magically-endowed plastic to the wood. After a faint silver glimmering, she heard a subtle click and the door swung slightly inward. She pushed her body through the minor protection ward and made her way down the hall.

Patients of various sanity walked unfettered throughout the halls, one in particular was currently having an explicit rendezvous with a potted plant. Hermione tried to stay focused on her objective, but her head kept turning to look over her shoulder as the man proceeded to lift his hospital gown and slap the trunk of the plant with his penis. Her eyes widened as his apparent growing ecstasy - growing louder by the second - was cut short by two Healers nearly tackling him and grabbing him by the arms, ultimately detaching him from his beloved plant.

Shaking her head, she turned left and counted three doors down hoping that they were in the same room they had been in before. She gently took the handle in her hand and pushed the door open. Poking her head in, she saw a man and a woman sitting by the windows, their hands intertwined as they stared unseeingly into the garden. Pain tugged at her heart as she watched them closely. They looked nearly the same as when she had last seen them. She wasn't sure if part of her had been holding out hope that, maybe, it wasn't as bad as it had been in her time. She found that those hopes were quickly squashed, because they looked worse than before.

Careful so as not to alarm them, she stood by the door and cleared her throat. "Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom?" They didn't turn around, but she didn't truly expect them too, either. She took a couple steps closer. "My name is Hermione Granger. You don't know me, not really, but I know your son. I've known him for a very long time. He's a wonderful boy." she paused, her head bowed as her voice slightly lowered. "I know you probably won't understand this; but, I promise that those bad people, the people that hurt you, will never bother you again. Especially Neville. I'll watch over him in your stead, until you get better, of course. I swear it."

The couple continued to stare out the window and Hermione sighed. She knew that they were most likely eternally broken; but, at least subconsciously, they'd know their baby boy was safe. Offering a smile to their backs, she turned on her heel and exited the room.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Okay, here's Chapter 25! Again, a bit early; but I've taken one too many long breaks so I feel indebted to all my wonderful readers. I apologize for any errors I might have missed! I hope you enjoy! xo

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Hermione sat in the garden, curled up on an iron-laced bench swing with a book about various magical plants in her lap. She smiled as she remembered how enthusiastic - if not a bit self-deprecating - Neville was when he spoke about the subject. The instant Hermione had shown interest in the subject he had returned the next day with the rather large tome - much to the exasperation and amusement of his Gran.

"Hermione!"

Startled, Hermione looked up from her book and turned to peer over her shoulder. She smiled, her brows slightly lifting upwards, as she watched Neville jog towards her. _Speak of the devil._ "Why hello, Neville. I wasn't expecting a visit from you today. Are you alright?"

Neville nodded eagerly, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I'm fine, thanks. Gran needed to pop in for a moment to sign some things; but that's not why I'm here to see you."

Her brows rose further. "Then what brings you by?"

His smile was so large and dripping with such excitement, Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "My, something certainly has you worked up this afternoon. Well, out with it then. What is it?"

"The Ministry is assembling the Wizengamot for a hearing of some sort on the third of August and Gran says she has to go; _but_ it's on the same day she is supposed to take me to Diagon Alley to gather my things for school! She said we could go before or after, but I _need_ to go _that_ day because Selina Sapworthy's new book release is _that_ day! So. She said I can go with you!" he jumped excitedly,

"Now, listen here, boy. Don't you go putting words in my mouth. I said you may go with her, but only if she so desires to take you."

Hermione flicked her eyes over Neville's shoulder and smiled. Augusta Longbottom was an intriguing woman composed of both old-fashioned pureblood standards and modern ideals. She also had a very fierce, if somewhat stern, love for her grandson.

Over the past four weeks, she had watched the older woman love and spoil the boy unconditionally and in the next breath redirect him from some of his more over-dramatic tendencies with nothing more than a raised brow. She had watched Augusta smile proudly when Neville started talking about his plants; to turn around and give him a gentle nudge with the tip of her cane when he began getting too nervous and stuttering.

Throughout that time, Hermione learned that even though Neville's parents were mentally absent in his life, he did not go without love and that made her happy. "I'd be delighted to accompany him, Lady Longbotto-" she paused at the soul-piercing glare she was receiving, "...Augusta."

Augusta nodded and looked towards her grandson, "Neville, we better be going if we're to meet the Bones family on time. Say your goodbyes." She looked back towards Hermione, "I'll be in touch."

"Remember, Hermione, third of August!" Neville waved and turned on his heel to follow his grandmother off the grounds.

Hermione shook her head and turned back towards her book as she heard the faint pop of the two disapparating. Humming under her breath she let her eyes drag across the pages looking for where she had left off. She hadn't been immersed in the text for more than five minutes when another _pop_ sounded behind her. She placed her hand on the page, "Honestly, Neville? I'm going to tell your Gran to purchase you a Remembrall if you continue forgetting things." Laughing at her own inside joke, she turned around and spotted another familiar face. "Oh, hello Professor."

He chuckled, "Hello, Miss Granger, I'm afraid I'm not Mr. Longbottom. However, do you mind if I join you instead?"

She shook her head, moving to place her feet back on the ground. She bent over and grabbed a leaf that had fallen from a tree nearby and tucked it into the book's spine before closing it. Setting it aside, she turned her body to fully face the Headmaster as he took a seat next to her. She softly laughed as a contented sigh escaped him. He glanced towards her out of the corner of his eye and smirked, "My legs aren't what they used to be, I'm afraid."

Hermione laughed again, lazily flicking her hand towards her own legs. "My legs can empathize, Professor."

He nodded and relaxed further on the swing, crossing his legs at the ankles. "So, I spoke with Healer McGuire. He says you should be released in a week's time. What will you do?"

She bobbed her head side-to-side as she thought on his question. "Well, I've apparently been recruited in taking Neville to Diagon Alley for school supplies and a certain book he's practically salivating over. After that…? I'm not sure, but I'll figure it out. Having lived the life I have, I always manage to figure it out...eventually."

"Would you tell me? About your life, that is."

Hermione turned her head away, her eyes staring unseeingly at the small copse of trees that littered the grounds. She listened as the birds chirped from the perches high above and sighed. "Does Grindelwald exist here?" she paused, only continuing after Dumbledore nodded, "Right, then. There were two major wars after Grindelwald was put down - bully for you for that. The first happened just after I was born. A lot of good people died, but so did the villain of this story. Or so everyone thought. Right before _he_ died, _he_ attacked my brother and his family. Killed his parents and just disappeared after trying to kill him. For years people thought it was finally over. It wasn't until my first year at Hogwarts that we discovered how utterly wrong we were."

She inhaled, wrapping a curl around her finger. "It was that year that we learned _he_ hadn't died. _He_ was somehow still alive; but to maintain some form of existence he had to possess someone. That someone turned out to be our Defense Professor. Every year after that, we - my brother and I - along with our friend, fought against _him_ at every turn." she grunted, "I suppose you already know who I'm talking about so I might as well just call him by his name." she cleared her throat. "Voldemort. That's who it was. It wasn't until our fourth year that everything went topsy-turvy in the worst kind of way. Voldemort's little minions captured my brother and used his blood and a _very_ dark ritual to resurrect him. It...it didn't go completely as planned, I think."

She shuddered at the memory a noseless, grey-skinned face with angry red eyes. "That's when the second war started. Well, when people started believing my brother wasn't just spouting crazy, that is. We fought for years, but it didn't come to a head until what was meant to be our seventh year. We didn't attend that year as we were looking for the things that gave Voldemort power - horcruxes. One by one, we took them out...and then…"

Hermione attempted to blink away the blurriness that had claimed her vision. Dragging the back of her hand across her eyes, she sniffled. "The time for the Final Battle came and was fought on the grounds of Hogwarts. My brother went up against Voldemort and they were both struck down. The only thing is my brother never took another breath. Voldemort had caught on to what we were doing and had created another one of those _things,_ days before the Battle. A potioneer, who we had thought was on our side, had previously readied a form of resurrection potion in the event Voldemort failed. Within twenty minutes that abomination was once again standing."

She cleared her throat, trying to rid herself of the overly-large lump holding out there. "It was a hell you could probably never imagine. It was that day I saw my life destroyed. There were so many bodies, so many unseeing eyes. The worst was seeing my brother lying lifeless on the dirty stones of the courtyard. I ran to him and apparated out, burying him in a peaceful glade far away so no one would find him. Then, I ran like a coward - my foot already halfway in the grave, I suppose - as I was slowly beginning to bleed out. I finally took up residence in a warehouse outside of London so that I could heal my wounds. It wasn't but a few days later that Voldemort magically projected the scene of my best friend and his family being hung in front of the Ministry for being blood-traitors."

She took a deep, shaky breath; clasping her hands tightly in her lap. "After that, time seemed to change without my noticing. Days quickly turned into weeks, which just as quickly turned into months. Throughout all of that I watched more friends die and commit suicide, than should be healthy for my psyche. It is a true wonder I have not gone insane. I spent a lot of my time trying to find the remaining horcrux. I figured if I found it, I'd destroy it, then face that insane bastard. If I died in the process, then so be it."

"However, with time passing and no progress being made, I began to watch the world around me. Muggleborn witches and wizards were being executed left and right; enough so that they should've been listed on the endangered species list. Blood-traitors and poorer half-bloods received the same treatment as the muggleborns. The only ones who remained were the followers of the Dark Lord and the half-bloods who possessed enough money to make their lives valuable for that much longer. That was when I realized that there was no point in searching for the last horcrux. The people did not want change, they were ecstatic about what had already happened."

Hermione took another deep breath as her throat constricted. "There were so many times I thought about offing myself. It would've been so easy. _Just do it_. That's what I would tell myself, but then I would get so angry for even considering that as an alternative; and so I would go out and hunt Death Eaters. They caught on quick enough, because they started hanging up my picture everywhere - muggle and Wizarding London both. I couldn't step foot outside unless I was disillusioned, but even then that's not always foolproof. I eventually got to the point where the only time I would leave my hideout was to retrieve food from the grocers or bins behind restaurants."

"For three years, I struggled to stay alive. It wasn't until a couple months ago that I found an ally in an old friend. A boy I had attended school with. He helped me take out a particularly nasty woman that had made it to my Top Three." she paused, but kept her eyes averted towards the trees. "Don't look at me like that. I did what I had to do and I don't regret it. The people I killed, deserved it thrice over. They enjoyed the torture, rapes, and killings. Reveled in it, actually. The woman, especially, loved hurting children. Her worst mistake was thinking she would _ever_ get away with hurting my brother."

She let the anger consume her, let it wash away her sorrow as the ghostly sounds of Umbridge's head hitting the stone floor reverberated in her head. "After she died, we tried to escape; but we weren't quick enough. They had thrown up an anti-apparition spell, trapping us inside. We were surrounded, so we fought. It was when a wizard I hadn't seen tried to curse me that my friend sacrificed himself to save me. I held him as he died. Held him as his body turned to ashes and slipped through my fingers like so much dust."

"I had been so trapped in my grief that the potioneer who had revived Voldemort was able to sneak up on me...and then _another_ wizard appeared out of nowhere. While they bickered amongst one another like children, I made my escape; but, again, I wasn't fast enough...or in this case nimble enough, I suppose. I tripped over a bloody branch and went arse-over-tit into that clearing where Theo found me. They caught me and one of their spells is the one that sent me here."

"So, as you can see, I'm no more than a coward who was holding onto life by just a thread of sanity." she mumbled, her shoulders shaking as her roiling emotions overwhelmed her.

Dumbledore stared at the young woman next to him in awe. There was no other word for it. She had been through more than hundreds of people experience in even a fraction of their lifetime. He was astounded by the strength and resilience in the girl, granted he knew it was there as she identified herself as a Gryffindor; but to have come this far and still have the will to live? Gods. She was a rare one indeed, as he wasn't even remotely sure he could've done it himself.

He cleared his throat, placing a gentle hand atop her clenched ones causing her to meet his eyes. "You are an incredible woman, Miss Granger, and I mean that with every fibre of my being. There isn't one other person that I know - and I've met _a lot_ of people over my lifetime - that could do any of the things you did and remain strong at the end of it all. You are most certainly _not_ a coward. What you are is a survivor and a bloody good one at that."

Hermione smiled, a faint blush painting her cheeks. She began to awkwardly pull at her hospital gown as she mumbled a quiet _thank you_.

He nodded. "Now, I have a proposal for you, my dear. One I'd very much like you to consider."

"Okay…"

"I find myself in need of a Defense Professor, as my last one left under...dubious...circumstances."

Hermione paused, "By dubious do you mean cursed?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose, "What? Of course not, my dear! He was arrested by Aurors for smuggling Dwarven relics out of the country. He's currently in Azkaban."

Hermione sighed, looking down at her slightly twitching fingers. "As much as I appreciate the offer, Professor, I must decline. I can't exactly teach at a school where a younger version of _me_ is attending. I do believe that would have too many people questioning things they shouldn't be. It's probably best if I simply disappear."

Dumbledore hummed, his hand stroking his long, white beard. "Indeed, I quite understand your predicament, Miss Granger; however, I have discovered something quite curious. Although, I'm not sure what it means."

She frowned, a thin line forming between her brows as she looked over at her old Headmaster. "What is it?"

He sighed and turned his head to face her full on, "We do not currently possess any record of a Hermione Granger receiving an invitation to Hogwarts."


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's Chapter 26! Enjoy! xo

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Hermione stood by her hospital bed, carefully folding the last horrible gown she would ever have to wear, ever - hopefully. She gently placed it on the wrinkle-free sheets and grabbed her beat-up, beaded bag. She let her fingers trail over the torn threading and sighed. This one little bag held everything that had ever mattered to her in her old life. She knew that, eventually, she would need to sort through the multitude of items hidden away in its depths, but now wasn't that time - if there would ever be. Now, she needed those material things to keep her grounded in this new life she had been thrust into. To help her maintain what little sanity she had left.

She reached down and grabbed her wand, sliding it into the newly created holster on her forearm - the most ideal location as it allowed it to slip in her hand easily and it provided ample coverage of that deranged word. Somehow, while she lay incapacitated and her mind closed off, her magic had resorted to something similar to muscle memory and had ensured all of her scars continued to remain out-of-sight by glamour. It wasn't until she had woken from her month long coma that she began to notice the charm beginning to flicker in and out. Nervous of it being seen - and, thus, raising far too many questions - she made the simple construct and found it performed adequately for both tasks.

Patting her wand gently, she walked towards her open doorway and stepped out into the hallway, being mindful of the conversing Healers and other medical staff. She gave small waves and smiles as she passed those she had grown to know over her extensive time here and was pleasantly surprised by all the well wishes she received - especially as she hadn't been the most...personable...patient being treated here. She refused to think that they were wishing her well based solely on their excitement to see her gone. She refused.

Winding her way down the halls, she finally came upon the front desk and the slightly rotund, strawberry blonde woman currently manning - womanning? - it. She stopped before the clean white wall encompassing the blonde and cleared her throat. Green eyes shot up to meet hers and the woman smiled.

"Hello, there. How may I help you today?"

"My name's Hermione Granger and I was told to see you about some papers for discharge?"

The jovial woman nodded and began digging through a stack of paperwork that nearly reached the woman's shoulders. Hermione couldn't help but think how surprising that was, considering this time didn't have a Voldemort to deal with. _How can so many people have such severe injuries?_ She thought to herself, but was immediately frozen on the spot when a third of that stack was taken and handed across the counter to her.

"W-what? _All of this_?"

The woman nodded. "I'm afraid so, Miss Granger. Please take a seat and return them when you're done."

Hermione flicked her eyes from the stack she was holding, to the lobby chairs that didn't even look remotely comfortable, and back again. "Seriously? I couldn't have handled this while I was still in my room? Even that thing you people call a bed is likely more comfortable than _those_." she sneered, as her eyes fixed pointedly on the rough, plastic chairs.

The receptionist simply _tsked_ and pointed a finely manicured finger in the direction of the chairs. "Sit."

Bowing her head, she began to slowly shuffle over towards the seats - mumbling particularly nasty curses at the apparently low funding for hospital furniture. Slumping over, she arranged the paperwork in her lap so as to better align with her hand and began to sign. Over and over and over, again. By the time she had finished - a whopping forty-five minutes later - she had a hand cramp and had quite possibly just donated a kidney, alongside the soul of her first-born.

Grumbling angrily, she pushed the paper tower across the desk counter and resisted the urge to tap her foot while she waited to receive the other woman's attention. The woman looked up, that same overly-cheery smile in place, and reached over to take the papers back. "Thank you, Miss Granger. Healer McGuire has forgone assigning you another appointment so you are free to go. On behalf of all the Staff here, St. Mungo's wishes you well. Good day, Miss Granger."

Nodding her thanks, she turned on her heel and approached the lift. She pushed the button and waited silently until the light _ding_ sounded and she boarded into the - thankfully - empty compartment. The lift dropped two floors - how it managed to _still_ make her nauseous was beyond her - and the gates opened. Quickly stepping out, she made her way to the magicked entrance and stepped through the concealment charm. She took a deep breath and looked around. People, completely unaware of the woman who had seemingly popped up out of nowhere, carried on with their business as per usual, causing Hermione to smile. It would seem that no matter what time she was in, muggles still didn't acknowledge what their minds perceived as impossible.

Looking around one last time, she started walking down the sidewalk until she came to an empty alleyway. Thinking of her destination, she closed her eyes and disapparated.

She knew it had taken nothing more than a moment for her to be standing in the small park that wasn't more than a block or two away from her old family home; but she couldn't find it in herself to open her eyes. The words Dumbledore had parted with a week ago had been festering within her head, making an even bigger mess of her mind. She knew she needed to know, but a part of her wanted to stay blissfully ignorant. To continue on with her plan to simply disappear into this world and live out the rest of her life in solitude. In peace.

However, she knew that wasn't possible and so she forced her eyes open - blinking away her blurred vision and looked around. It was peacefully quiet, as the children in attendance were currently on the far side of the park. She knew they would be, as even in her own time Hermione had declared this portion of the park hers, as people rarely ventured this deep. Sighing and shoving her slightly trembling hands into the pockets of her jeans, she made her way to the street and began the seemingly never-ending trek to her home.

Ten minutes later she stood across the street, staring up at the brown-bricked house that towered over her two-stories high. She let her eyes flow over the landscaping and was slightly disappointed to see her mother's flowers appeared to be somewhat deadened. As if whoever lived there didn't have the time to give them the love and care her mother had so dotingly used with and on them. Feeling a sense of dread beginning to bubble-up within her chest, she looked both ways and crossed the street.

She took a deep breath, knowing if she didn't do it _now_ she would never have the courage; she rang the doorbell. Time ticked by slowly. Counted down by the gentle chirps of the birds hidden away in the trees and the deep drum-like thump of her heart in her ears. She could feel her panic rising the longer she waited. Reaching out to push the delicate button again, she was stopped halfway when the door opened and a woman who was most certainly _not_ her mother greeted her with a smile.

"Sorry, I was mucking about in the kitchen. May I help you?"

Hermione stared up at the blue-eyed, black-haired woman and forced herself to swallow, nearly choking on her quickly thickening saliva. She opened her mouth to say something - anything - but couldn't find the words as she fought the tears she could feel building behind her eyes. She cleared her throat. "Ah, yes, sorry to impose on you like this; but I was told the Grangers lived here?"

The woman frowned, her brows drawing closer together as she stared down at Hermione. "Grangers? I don't believe I kn-" she paused, her face growing more alert as an apparent revelation made itself known, "Oh, yes. Those Grangers." she sighed and gave Hermione a look that cemented her worst nightmares into place. "I'm afraid they passed away a year ago. Terrible accident, I think. Did you know them, dear?"

She did her utmost best not to have a mental breakdown here on her - no - this strange woman's front steps. She cleared her throat again and began to blink rapidly. "No ma'am. Uhm. I'm sorry to have bothered you. Thank you."

She turned around and jogged down the steps and back down the street. She didn't let the tears fall until she had returned to the park and her old house was no longer in sight. Breathing deeply - her breaths coming in sharp gasps - she hunched over, her hands on her knees, and sobbed. She cried so hard, her shaking knees collapsed and she hit the slightly-damp earth with a muted _thump_. Her hands fisted the blades of grass and wrenched them free of their home. Just like she had been. She hadn't been able to save her parents in her own time and now she had failed them here, as well.

After a few more moments, she leaned back on her heels and drug her hands across her eyes, not caring of the dirt that probably stained her face now. Carefully, she climbed back to her feet and began to think of what to do next. She needed to know what had happened to her family. To _her_. _The woman said a terrible accident; so, something like that would_ surely _be in the Library archives, right?_ She thought to herself as she straightened her simple green, cotton top and picked up her bag.

Deciding that was the best course of action, she disapparated and reappeared at the back entrance to the small town library. She made her way around the moderate, stone-edifice and entered the front doors. She hurriedly walked - she _would not_ run in such a holy place no matter how eager she was for answers - towards the Librarian's desk. She smiled at the middle-aged woman whose bright hazel eyes glittered behind thick, tortoise-shell glasses.

"Hello, ma'am. I was just wondering where your newspaper articles were stored."

The woman looked over the top of her glasses and smiled. "Not many requests for those lately. May I ask why you need them?" Her eyes slightly darting over the small patches of dirt on Hermione's cheeks.

Hermione paused as she thought over the woman's question. She hadn't expected to be asked her purpose of requesting something from a Librarian; but, then again, this wasn't Madam Pince. _This_ woman didn't know her from Adam. Right. "Of course," she paused and scanned the small nameplate on the desk, "Ms. Straw. I've been assigned a research paper on how the mind, and its thought processes, is affected when under the influence of both alcohol and narcotics. I'll just be looking through events that have included one or the other, or both."

Nodding, Ms. Straw pulled out a card and began to write something down. Once finished, she pushed it across the thin railing of the desk and pointed towards a set of double doors that stood behind her on the other end of the library. "Just go through those doors, take a left, and it'll be the last office on the right. This," she tapped her finger against the card, "is the code you need to enter to be able to log into the system. If you run into any problems, please let me know."

She quickly thanked the Librarian before turning around and walking across the tiled floor to the indicated doors. She pushed one open with her shoulder and continued on until she stood before the old, wooden door Ms. Straw had indicated. A golden nameplate had been bolted to the door, simply stating the word "NEWSPAPER." She took the brass knob in hand and turned, quietly stepping into the darkened room. She let her hand trail along the wall until her fingers stumbled over the switch. The lights flashed on and she found herself staring at a rather standard desk and a slightly outdated computer.

Hermione sat in the squeaky, red-leathered chair and swiveled to face the computer. After waiting a minute or two for it to start up, she promptly entered the code Ms. Straw had provided her and watched as the newspaper archives opened to her. She searched through the available folders until she found the year she was looking for - 1990. Double-clicking, she scrolled through again and again, until she had finally narrowed her search down to car accidents.

With a patience she didn't know she possessed any longer, she began the painstaking task of reading through the numerous articles. She was a couple hours in when she finally found what she was looking for.

Her eyes scanned the thick, black and white header of the article and felt a piece of her heart shatter all over again. She slowly began scrolling through the article, unaware of the tears that had begun to fall in earnest once more. The entire thing was no more than twenty sentences - something easily browsed over while having a sip of morning tea. Twenty sentences of no consequence to a stranger; but more than enough to destroy a single woman's world.

Hermione bowed her head against the table and quietly released her grief. Her parents had died. _She_ had died. All too early; and all because some fucking idiot made the _choice_ \- that's what Dumbledore had said right? It's all about our choices? - to drink and drive. He didn't care that his _choice_ affected everyone else as well.

Her shoulders shook harder as she curled in on herself. Her hands going to fist in her hair as she began to choke on her sobs. She found herself dry-heaving, but willed the urge to release the contents of her stomach away. She tried to sniffle, but ultimately ended up sounding more like a pig with a sinus infection.

Laughing at herself, she lifted the hem of her shirt to her face and wiped herself dry. Taking deep breaths through her mouth - as her nose was still incapacitated - she closed her eyes and counted down from ten. She said a small prayer for her parents and for the little girl she knew had been so excited to start Hogwarts this fall and felt something similar to peace wash over her. She opened her eyes and pulled open the desk drawers in search of paper and pen.

She may not have been able to help her parents, but there was at least one little boy out there who needed her. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward slightly and began to write out a letter to Dumbledore.

Hogwarts was going to have a new Professor.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's Chapter 27! I'm sorry for the delay in posting. I've had a lot happen over the past couple months or so and I haven't had the time to do much of anything besides work, eat, and sleep. To make up for my absence, I am in process of writing chapters 28 through 30 as well. Once I've finished editing - please forgive any I missed - I hope to have all of them uploaded today. Once again, I'm sorry for how long it's taken me to get back.

* * *

Hermione stumbled through the large fireplace, barely managing not to impale herself on a rather pointy object sitting on a side-table. After glaring and muttering a few choice words about old wizards and furniture placement, she lifted her eyes and took in the large, circular office. Whizzing and whirling artefacts decorated the room on shelves and tables in a glittering, chaotic mess. Seeing this - seeing that the office hadn't changed much, if at all - urged her lips to tug upward.

She decided that a small look around wouldn't do much harm and with a quick glance up at the portraits of Headmasters long passed she found that most were sleeping. She chose to ignore the ones - especially a Phineas Nigellus Black - who were looking down at her with suspicion. Holding back the urge to give them a delicate three-finger-salute, she made her way towards the back of the office - enticed by bookcases that were three-times her height with shelves buckling under the weight of their contents.

She allowed her fingers to just barely trail along the aged spines and various knick-knacks that lined the back wall, her eyes taking in everything she could manage in one go. Just as she was rounding the edge of Dumbledore's large, claw-footed desk - currently littered with various pieces of parchment and a particularly large bowl of what she could only assume were lemon drops - a rare volume beckoning her forward, she heard a musical chirp off to her right.

Tilting her head, a sense of eagerness overtaking her, she carefully approached an intricately carved, wooden perch doing her best not to frighten its current resident. She stopped two steps away, smiling as the crimson and gold bird tilted its head curiously in her direction.

"Hello there, pretty bird." she murmured softly, smiling with tears in her eyes and nose twitching as the phoenix sang for her. Taking a deep breath, she took another step closer and held out her hand - palm up - and paused, waiting for the magical creature to give her permission. They stared at one another in silence for a moment, before the bird cooed in however a manner a bird of his sort can; and leaned forward, placing his head in the curve of her palm. Gently, Hermione began to stroke his feathers - from the top of his head all the way down to the tip of his tail feathers - and laughed softly when the bird shuddered and closed his eyes. "Silly, Fawkes. I always imagined you to be an affectionate little birdie. I suppose you're quite enjoying this, yeah?"

He chirped his response, her smile growing as he tried to nestle further within her touch. As she continued to pet him, her thoughts - as always - got the best of her, slowly forcing her smile away. "I never realized how much I missed you; missed hearing your songs at the dawn and dusk. You disappeared after…" she cleared her throat to rid herself of the knot that was forming and shook her head. "I suppose none of that matters now. You're here and happy once more."

As she trailed the tip of her finger back and forth between his folded wings, her other hand crept up her back - just above her hip - and paused. Fawkes opened his small, beady eyes and stared at her for a moment. As brown met black, the air seemed to still and electrify at the same time - a sense of understanding wrapping around them like a warm, fleecy blanket. Fawkes gently began to rub his beak against her scarred forearm, gently singing to her. Reassuring her. Hermione bowed her head, blinking rapidly in an effort to fight off the overwhelming urge to cry.

She had known that the transition from her time to this one would be difficult; seeing faces that she had once known, faces that had been long gone. However, each time she came into contact with someone from her past, the grief reared its ugly head - reminding her that although they had the same faces, these were not the people she had known and they did not know her. So, every second of every day she fought the urge to wave, hug, or kiss those she knew and loved; but, instead, had watched them from a distance. Playing the role she had grown accustomed to since she had first arrived here.

She never imagined that such a thing could be possible; but as she watched Fawkes continue to rub his beak across that hideous word hidden behind her cotton sleeve, she almost allowed herself the possibility that this beautiful, magical creature _knew_ her. Remembered her. Sensing that she was on the edge of either a nervous or emotional breakdown, Fawkes parted his beak and sang her a final song before spreading his large fiery wings. Rustling them once, twice, he launched into the air on a single flap and flew out an open window on the upper level - a single gold-tipped feather drifting towards her.

Quickly bending over, she caught the wispy token in her cupped hands and carefully tucked it into a cushioned pocket in her beaded bag. Lightly tapping the side of her bag, she returned to her inspection of the room, wondering where - exactly - Dumbledore was. Deciding that giving him a few more minutes before ultimately assuming the worst, she fumbled with a magical globe and watched it spin smoothly as it pointed out the locations she requested.

It wasn't long before irritation and boredom began to set in. Her fingers began tapping along her thighs as she let her eyes scan the room and stopped on a small couch set off to the side. Pushing herself forward, she was just about to sit down when a voice spoke up nearly scaring her out of her own skin.

"Going to ignore me, Miss Granger?"

She narrowed her eyes and flicked her wrist, gripping her wand as it fell smoothly into her waiting hand. Lowering herself into a slightly crouched position, she let her eyes trail over the room - ensuring that every nook and cranny was clear. That's when she saw it - a very brown, very ragged, _very familiar_ hat sitting on a skinny, wooden stool. Eyes growing wide, she rushed over to the ancient magical artefact. "You're...the Sorting Hat…"

It humphed as it bent this way and that, as if it were trying to find a more comfortable position. The rip in its aged leather twisting into something like a grimace. "Indeed, I am."

Hermione frowned, "How do you know who I am?"

The Hat grumbled and Hermione could have sworn the thing actually managed to glare at her. "I am magic, Miss Granger. Magic, which is far older than you. Even with your famed intellect I doubt you could even _begin_ to comprehend the intricacies of what _I_ am; then again, you would most likely come the closest out of all those my brim has touched."

She stared down at the Hat, slowly blinking with brows bunched together as she thought on how the bloody thing had managed to both insult and compliment her all in one sentence. She opened her mouth to form some kind of response, but It beat her to it.

"If I am correct - which I always am - this is the year you were Sorted, yes? A bit older than my typical judgements, I dare say; but would you care to give it another go? To see where you belong? After all, I've always told the Headmasters here that we Sort too soon. A child has yet to discover their true selves - who they were meant to be and what part to play in this world; but do they listen? No, of course not. _You're just a hat_ , they say. Well, this Hat will outlive you all!"

Hermione nibbled on her lower lip as she thought on his offer a moment. A larger part of her was excited to once again be a part of something grander than herself. However, there was still a smaller - yet still irritating - part of her that was worried of what the Hat would say. She had done a lot of terrible, horrible things in the past handful of years. Ones that she wished no one, no matter who or _what_ they were, to see. She hesitated a moment more, before reaching out and lifting the Hat from its resting place. It was as she was gently cradling it in her hands that the office door opened.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I apologize for the delay. I'm afraid I was cornered by a group of particularly feisty elves, who made me swear on my lemon drops that I would not allow anyone to gift them with clothes. It was quite peculiar, indeed."

Eyes widening and a faint blush tinting her lightly freckled cheeks, she turned on her heel - Hat still in hand - and faced the door. Dumbledore was dressed in exceptionally bright blue robes, his beard groomed and tied away with a dyed strip of leather. His eyes widened to match hers as he spotted the Hat in her hands. As the silence ticked on, Hermione began to fidget nervously, much to the vocal disdain of the Hat. "Yes, peculiar. Ah….yes, so. I apologize, Professor. I didn't intend to snoop. I just...he...well, yes…"

Dumbledore chuckled and simply waved his hand as he approached the chair that sat behind his desk. "Please, do not alarm yourself. I find myself curious as to what It will say. After all, I do believe, on occasion, that we Sort too soon. Do go on, Miss Granger."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the old wizard's falsehood and instead looked down towards the Hat and sighed. Slowly, she worked her way onto the stool and inhaled deeply as she felt the familiar weight sit atop her head. She flicked her eyes toward Dumbledore who was currently leaning against his desk, eagerly awaiting the results as he began to remove the clear wrapping of his favorite candy. Trying not to laugh, she closed her eyes and exhaled.

"Oh, yes. What a spirit you have, Miss Granger. You're bright and have an unending thirst for knowledge. Practical, and yet, blindingly loyal to your friends and family. You're cunning and show a resilience that many do not possess in these times. And _brave_. Yes. Brave and chivalrous. Fighting for what you believe is good and right. Although...some of the paths you've taken - although sometimes necessary - to achieve those ends, are of a...murkier...sort. Yes, I can see why I placed you in Gryffindor our first go around." the Hat paused, "Hmm. Where shall I place you? It's much more intriguing, I dare say. I do believe this just reaffirmed my beliefs about Sorting too soon. You humans are just so much more interesting once you've got a taste of life."

"Yes?" Hermione urged, fearing she could quite possibly break the old, wooden stool if she clenched it any harder.

"Ah, yes, my apologies. So, where was I? Oh, yes! Sorting. Right. Right." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hufflepuff is too naive and Ravenclaw would bore you. Gryffindor? Slytherin? You would excel in both, I do believe. The Gryffindors could give you the home you've been seeking; however…"

"However?" she asked.

"There are those who have the potential to be their best under your...unique...teachings. Those, who will need your help in coming…situations. If you had to choose, what would you do?"

Hermione froze, frowning. "You're asking me?"

The Hat made a thoughtful grunt. "Why, yes. Input is always much appreciated."

Hermione stared down at the toes of her shoes, quietly thinking over which she'd prefer. As in her usual style, she began to mentally sort out the pros and cons of each House. _Alright..Gryffindor Pros: I know what is expected of me, most of my friends are Sorted there...Neville will most likely go there...and he needs me…_ she thought, _Cons: are there any? It's my home. It's what I know. I_ belong _there….but….then again..._

Growling in frustration at the decision, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Just as she was about to answer, the Hat cut her off once more. "Hmm...yes….yes, I see. You're confused as to which House you truly belong in - to where you can provide the most help. Admirable indeed, Miss Granger. Well...decisions, decisions. Any more thoughts you'd like to share? Go ahead and lay them bare...no? alright, then, I believe you're a - _SLYTHERIN_!"

A whoosh of air escaped her in what she would later recognize as relief. Although she loved her Gryffindors and would forever remain partly one, she knew deep in her soul that Slytherin is where she truly belonged. Not because she had done bad things, no; but because for far too long she had witnessed the House be treated poorly - treated as villains from their very first day, no matter that they were simply children. She knew, personally, that there were those Sorted into the House that were exceptionally talented and could go far - be anything they wanted - if only the Witches and Wizards of the magical world would allow them to. She could at least give them that chance. Give them the chance to show their peers that not all young witches and wizards graduating from that House are destined to be evil little shits bent on world domination.

"Thank you." she whispered as she carefully removed the hat from her head and gently placed it back on the stool.

"It was - is - my honour, Miss Granger. I do believe I see great things in your future. Great things, indeed." The Hat bowed its tip towards her before slumping on the stool and falling silent.

Turning, she found Dumbledore watching her quietly with a slightly odd look on his face. Quirking a brow, in a much similar fashion to one Minerva McGonagall, she asked, "Disappointed, Headmaster?"

"I must admit, I _am_ slightly disappointed; but that's just me being biased for my own House." Hermione shut down the urge to point out how that same bias affected the other Houses, by smiling thinly and sitting in an armchair positioned across from him. "However, I am appeased that at least you were Sorted there your first go around." he laughed, causing her to tighten her fists around the intricate knobs of the chair handles - otherwise she feared she would launch herself across the desk and knock the sense he'd dropped back into his head.

Instead, she said, "It's funny how people change over time; after all, you - yourself - said that you believe we Sort too soon."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully as he twirled the tip of his beard around his fingers. "Quite right, Miss Granger, quite right."

Five minutes of nothing but the sound of some sort of grinding object in the background and Hermione was about to break. "Is there anything you need me to do, Professor? It's getting late…"

Realizing that he had slightly disappeared in thought, he clapped his hands together and sat up straight. "Oh yes, forgive me. I tend to drift in my thoughts on occasion. Once we've finished up here, I'll escort you to a temporary room that is available for your use until you complete your testing."

Hermione sat up; trying to not appear to eager or give the man the impression she was an unstable psychopath. "Test?"

He nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid that in order for me to rightfully instate you as our new Defence Professor, you will need to complete your NEWTs."

Open-mouthed and wide-eyed, she stared up at the old wizard and suddenly burst into tears. Covering her face in embarrassment, she quickly began wiping away the evidence of her emotional breakdown. "I'm sorry. I...I never imagined...I'll absolutely do it. Absolutely. Thank you, Professor."

Looking up she saw Dumbledore smiling kindly down at her. "It's quite alright, Miss Granger, and there's nothing to thank me for. After hearing your story, I fully believe you capable of handling the students here. However, our Board of Governors and my Deputy Headmistress have utterly insisted that you be tested first. So, I'll have Minerva draft up a schedule for the written and practical portions of the testing. In the coming days, you are free to do as you wish and the library is at your full disposal."

Nodding rapidly, Hermione grinned - her cheeks slightly cramping from her excitement. Just as she was about to stand a thought struck her, of which she was thankful for because she was nearly positive she was about to kiss the hem of this wizard's robes, and that just wouldn't do. "Would you like to know what I want to be tested in?"

Dumbledore chuckled, "I had assumed you would only want to test for the minimum requirement for the position."

Tossing her head back, her belly vibrating with laughter, she leaned forward and took one more step into her new life. "Oh, Professor, you assume incorrectly. Now…"


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's Chapter 28! I'm uploading these one right after the other, so if you've yet to read chapter 27, then please do so!

* * *

Hermione watched herself in her small bedroom mirror as she pulled her thin, long-sleeved shirt the rest of the way down to meet the waist of a pair of well-worn jeans. Fidgeting, ink-stained fingers twitched across her sides in an attempt to smooth out any and all nonexistent wrinkles until she was satisfied. As she practiced regulating her breathing, preparing herself for the day's events, she tugged on the cuff of her sleeve ensuring that her more questionable scar remained properly hidden underneath her sleeve.

Sighing, she looked down at her slightly trembling hands and took in the multitude of scars, ink, and hangnails. She had worked tirelessly these last handful of weeks - her nose stuck in a book, her hands once-again consistently stained by ink and cut by parchment. She accepted the truth that her hands would no longer be the smooth, unmarred flesh of her youth. Accepted it because every papercut, every spilled pot of ink, and every broken nail she had received had brought her one step closer to fulfilling a dream she had once thought impossible.

Curling her fingers into her palms and clenching them into fists, she smiled. Two days ago she had completed the written portion of her NEWTs - feeling both anxious and confident with her potential marks. Today, she would be given the practical exam; and if everything went as she desperately hoped, her place here at Hogwarts - in this time - would be cemented, and she could begin to help those who needed her.

As she made her way down to the first level she let her fingers trail against the stone walls and marble banisters, only parting from the magically imbued stones as she exited through the main doors. The trek was eerily quiet as she made her way out of the courtyard and towards the Quidditch pitch. As she turned a corner of the changing rooms for the House teams, she figured out why.

A portion of the Quidditch stands - filling by the second with her soon-to-be fellow Professors and a dozen others she couldn't identify from where she stood, had been turned to face a large, empty field. Slightly frowning, she slowed her pace and walked towards where Dumbledore stood off to the side quietly speaking with McGonagall.

"Professors, I wasn't aware I was going to be having spectators."

Dumbledore turned and smiled. "Ah, Miss Granger. You're here! Wonderful! Why of course people have come to watch! After all, preparing for the school year can be quite tedious. I had only planned for your fellow Professors to be in attendance; however, it would seem the word has spread. No matter, I do believe we may get started; but, first, Minerva?"

"Right." McGonagall said, straightening the brim of her hat, "Miss Granger, as you are a rather...special...student, we have decided to combine all seven practicals into one trial. There will be seven checkpoints, one for each subject." She paused as she briefly glanced down at an unrolled piece of parchment, "Which are: Charms, Defence, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions. You have two hours to complete the practical and receive an O. If a quarter hour should pass before you finish, you will receive an E, and so on and so forth. You are permitted to use any and all magic at your disposal. However, as your task will be monitored, any magic used that is deemed unfit will result in the immediate termination of your trial and you will be asked to leave the premises forthright. You will be judged by each Professor currently teaching the applicable subject and Albus shall stand in for the current opening of the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. Do you have any questions?"

"No, Professor." Hermione said as she lazily looked over the barren grounds. "Well, actually, what is it I will be doing, exactly?"

"Ah, one moment and you shall see." Dumbledore smiled as he raised his wand and belted out an enchantment.

Hermione watched as greenery popped up from the ground and slowly began to knit together. As the walls grew larger, her breath grew heavy. _It's a…_

"Maze…" she whispered hoarsely.

"Quite so!" Dumbledore said cheerily, more than proud of himself for what he considered to be the ingenious idea. He turned his blue eyes downward and saw that Hermione's face had lost quite a bit of colour. "Are you alright, Miss Granger?"

Blinking rapidly, Hermione nodded and tightened her grasp on her wand. _Don't overthink this, Hermione. It's not the same as before,_ she thought to herself as echoes of Harry's screams began to play around her. Suddenly, she was surrounded by a large crowd of anxious and terrified students, Professors, and various other attendants as they all looked towards the prone body of their schoolmate and a broken-hearted father cradling him as he screamed his torment to the heavens.

Clearing her throat of the knot that was beginning to form, she closed her eyes and pulled her shields up around her mind. She would never be able to finish the test with her past playing on repeat. She would come to terms with the freshly opened wound later; but now, however, "I'm ready."

She shook hands with the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress, before they left to take their seats in the stands. Her eyes scanned the rows of wooden benches and something within her sighed in peaceful contentment as she spotted an eagerly bouncing Neville in the second row. When he realized he had finally caught her eye, he waved frantically and shouted out encouragements before his Gran finally managed to pull him back down to his seat.

She chuckled and turned back to face the opening of the maze, her eyes narrowing in determination. Her ears slowly began to tune out the background noise of the growing crowd's talking, only picking up the resounding _bang_ , informing her she now had one hour and fifty-nine minutes left.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she launched herself forward and into the all-encompassing darkness ahead. Praying to any God that was listening that she would somehow manage to escape this monstrosity with what little sanity she had left.

Once inside, she gave little thought to the hedge rapidly closing behind her. Instead, she raised her wand and called for her bluebell flames, watching as the small balls of fire kept pace. She took turn after turn, dodging animated vines and sudden sinkholes, when she finally reached the first checkpoint where a large, slithering plant greeted her.

She slowed until she came to a complete stop, her eyes quickly analyzing what lay before her. She sent out her flames and noted its deep-green colour before spiked tendrils shot outwards and extinguished the light. She conjured them once more, quickly dodging the stream of translucent slime that was currently shooting towards her face. Throwing herself to the side, she watched as the liquid landed just where she stood, watched as the ground began to quickly burn and bubble.

Looking up towards the sky, she stared into the slightly transparent picture of herself that was being magically projected for the judges. "Well done, Professor Sprout. Venomous Tentacula are always a pleasure to work with. I'd apologize for any particularly foul words I might say; but, well, I'm sure it's nothing _you've_ never said before."

Snickering at the fact that she had just informed her future co-workers of a certain Herbology Professor's penchant for nasty cursing when handling viscous plants, she quickly stood and drew her wand. She threw her arm up and brought it down hard, slashing from shoulder to hip, and watched as the vines shriveled and hit the earth beneath it. She dodged right, then left, jumping over a tentacle that had darted for her feet. She landed roughly, but continued to slash away at the plant.

Ignoring the painful throbbing in her calf caused by some imbedded thorns and the plant's not-so-happy roaring - she was _not_ going to see how many rumoured teeth that thing had - she slashed at the remaining vines until the thing curled in on itself and lay immobile all the while managing not to say a single curse word. Feeling quite proud of herself, she waited a couple seconds - sending a magical nudge or two - before deeming it safe to pass.

Sidestepping the stunned plant, she took off down the passageway and turned left twice, right once, before coming to a small clearing with five attached tunnels. Glancing up at the time, she noticed she had an hour and forty minutes left. Grunting, she stared at the tunnels and began to take a step forward when she heard a rather loud hissing coming from her right. She froze as she gripped her wand tighter, faint memories of a particular basilisk slithering about in her head.

"They must have conjured this shite from my head while I slept." she muttered to herself as she crouched and extinguished her flames. "Bloody wankers."

The hissing grew louder and it wasn't but a moment later that the particularly large reptile showed itself in the fifth tunnel. Holding her breath, she watched as the snake pulled itself upwards and in an instant grew three heads. "Oh... _fuck_ …" she quietly breathed on an exhale.

The snake twitched and turned her way, apparently she hadn't been quiet enough. The head on her left was hissing angrily, venom dripping from its bared fangs, its jaws snapping in her direction like a rabid dog. Her eyes quickly flicked over the other two and noticed that out of all three, the middle seemed to be the most docile. As if it were the subject of a snake-charmer, it simply swayed back and forth, hissing in tune with something only it could hear.

Thoughts of what this creature was and how in the name of Merlin's pants she was going to defeat it, rushed through her mind. She wasn't sure how this particular beast applied to her practicals as she wasn't taking one for Care of Magical Creatures. _Charms? Transfiguration?_ She questioned herself as she continued to dance around the seven-foot snake. She watched as the overly-hissing head turned to the other two in what she could only assume was a proper telling off. She watched as the three heads began to seemingly bicker amongst one another, before the middle and her far right side turned and latched their fangs onto the neck of their comrade. Within seconds, their venom had melted through the scales and muscles of the neck and its head fell with a dull thump onto the ground. That's when she knew what she was dealing with.

"Runespoor...but what in the actual fu-...Ancient Runes!" she nearly shouted as she jumped to her feet. "Runespoor is the magical symbol of three. So that means…" She turned towards the tunnel the snake had originally come from and counted three around. "Of course Professor Babbling would find something like this amusing. Cooky old bat." Her eyes cut to the sky-screen and rolled. She turned back to look at the snake, saw that it was currently occupied with eating its fallen head, and made a dash for the third tunnel on her left.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her dirtied trousers and took off down the tunnel at a slower pace than before. A quick look at the clock had her seeing she had an hour and twenty-five minutes left and she was already feeling the burn in both body and magic. Sighing, she followed the turns of the maze until she came to a simple table with three small vials sitting atop it.

Walking forward, she felt something scratching the inside of her throat. Frowning she picked up a piece of parchment and read the thin scrawl, _You have been Silenced. Choose the correct one._ Glaring, she turned to the vials and lit the tip of her wand, bright white light bursting forth with her irritation. Looking closely, they appeared to be nearly identical, nearly being the keyword. She picked up the vial from the middle and tossed it over her shoulder.

Standing, she removed the corks from the remaining two and brought them to her nose. Sniffing once, twice, she closed her eyes and let her memories take over. _Strong smell of mint and honey..._ she quieted for a moment, _What potion returns a person's voice?_ She paused, thinking how utterly embarrassing it would be to fail at this considering she had now linked herself to one of the most famous potioneers to have ever lived. _Something with a B...no V...Vol...Volubilis? Sounds right._ She took another sniff of each and looked towards the vial in her left hand. _Strong smell of mint, which would be from the mint sprigs...but...it shouldn't be that strong though...right?_ Frowning, she brought the vial in her right hand up to her nose and sniffed again. _There's mint here too...but...there! Mandrake!_ She thought excitedly as she picked up on the unmistakable earthy tone of the potion. Throwing the vial in her left hand off to the side, she brought the correct one up to her mouth and gulped the liquid down.

Sighing in relief, she cleared her throat and was surprised by how much she had missed the small sounds. She assumed her time spent in the magical coma had done more psychological damage than initially suspected. Speaking of, she was pretty sure she was due for another session in the next few days. Making a note to check her calendar later, she stepped away from the table and left the clearing.

"ONE HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES REMAINING!"

Hermione startled at the over-loud voice that bounced off the hedges around her, boxing her in. She resisted the urge to give a particularly nasty gesture and decided it was best to continue forward as she still had four checkpoints to go.

Fifteen more minutes and two wrong turns, had her at the next checkpoint and all but dying of thirst. Over the course of leaving Snape's portion of the practical, the temperature had skyrocketed and she was sure she probably stank to high-heaven, in no small thanks to the dirt, sweat, and blood that currently coated her body.

She stepped more fully into the next clearing and spotted a small, golden goblet towards the far wall. Her throat constricted immediately as a strong thirst crashed through her body. She stumbled over towards the cup, collapsing onto her shaking knees. Carefully she lifted the goblet to her nose and sniffed, after all she wasn't _that_ thirsty, well, enough to forgo the thought of poison at least.

"Wine. So...Charms?" She asked herself, as she faintly remembered the small half-goblin favored the stuff. Gripping the stem in her left hand, she waved the flat of her other hand over the top of the rim and watched as the deep red liquid began to slowly shift to clear. After a few more minutes, she sniffed again and found that she had successfully turned it into water. Quickly, she pressed her chapped lips against the cool metal and drank until nothing was left.

Dragging her hand across her mouth she gently set the goblet back on the ground and climbed back to her feet. Nodding her head, she slowly jogged down the passageway, ignoring the fact she had forty-one minutes left.

Setting her shoulders she took off at a sprint and began blasting hedges out of her way, slipping through as fast as she could make her body move before they sealed again. Five minutes of brute force and one _very_ close instance of her nearly becoming one with the wildlife, had her at the third to last checkpoint and nearly exhausted. She jogged up to another table currently holding a quill, inkpot, and two pieces of parchment - one was blank, the other read _Find the solution to what you shall face next_ in an elegant hand.

"Couldn't be any more vague, Professor Vector?" she cursed, as she picked up the quill and started mapping out the numbers. Minutes continued to pass as the solution continued to grow and grow until, finally, it stopped. Piecing together the clues, her brows furrowed as she came up with a single word. "Birds?"

"THIRTY MINUTES!"

Jumping at the sudden sound, she hurried from the area and down a tunnel, thinking wildly as to why she would need birds of all things. Flexing her fingers around her wand, she burst into another clearing, well; it would have been a clearing if it weren't for all of the over-large, hairy bodies of acromantulas rubbing against one another. Fighting her disgust, she looked around the edges for anything that she could possibly turn into a bird large enough to handle the situation and, if things turned for the worst, at least get her far enough away from the savage creatures.

With her frustration growing, she tossed her head back and growled in frustration. Chin falling to connect with her chest, she took a moment to collect herself when she spotted something in her pocket. Gently brushing across the soft surface an idea struck her. She threw out her arm in the direction of a medium-sized boulder and began casting. Five minutes of pushing everything she had into contorting the stone into a living thing had her nearly falling over. Fortunately, she held herself up against the hedge long enough for the dizzy spell to pass. She blinked away the black spots and watched in awe - and an enormous amount of pride - as a beautiful replication of Fawkes appeared.

It rose into the air on flaming-red wings, its song dancing on the wind. Smiling to herself, she watched him play for a moment before swooping down towards her, claws extended. Taking a deep breath and a running start, she followed the bird through the spider-free path as they scurried off to the sides, avoiding the bright flames emitting from her creation. A few brave ones, however, managed to break from the pack and began attacking her legs and ankles.

She fought them off as best she could manage; only stopping to regulate her ragged breathing once they had reached the other end. Hermione turned to look over her shoulder, smiling in thanks that the angry screeching of the beaten spiders was nothing more than a faint memory.

"Thank you for helping me." she whispered as she ran her hand over the phoenix's feathers.

The bird stared at her with its beady, black eyes and gave a simple nod before shuddering and returning to stone. Breathing heavily from exhaustion and the growing amount of blood leaking from scrapes and bites, she looked upwards at the clock and saw she had fourteen minutes left. Fourteen minutes to complete the final task.

She fought off the sense of defeat that was slowly creeping along the edges of her consciousness, feeling the walls of her mental shields beginning to crack with each forward step she took. She knew she no longer had the energy to pour into them, at least not if she wanted to make it through her Defence test alive. Grunting, she continued placing one foot in front of the other, shaking off the fatigue and a strange sense of something tugging at her mind. Blinking slowly, she felt her body come to a stop and her mind haze over. She tried to move her head, but she was stuck looking forward.

Something cracked off to her left, the sounds of footsteps growing closer. Her heart rate picked up, her lungs constricting in panic as her eyes lazily darted from side to side. Clenching her teeth, she felt her fingers twitch around the handle of her wand as the footsteps grew closer and a dark figure stepped from the shadows. Its outlines were fuzzy, enough so that she couldn't discern who, exactly, was doing this to her. It didn't speak, just stared at her with unnaturally red eyes. Silence blanketed them for several moments, before the shadow-figure raised its arm and pointed something at her. A single, growled word ripping through its mouth. " _Imperius_."

The spell hit her and her mind completely blanked. No tugging, no memories, just blank. She continued to stand there as the figure cackled in glee. "You're a pretty one, aren't you? Too bad that's all you'll ever be. A moderately pretty face. What is it people called you? Smartest witch of the age? Bullshite. You couldn't save your friends, your family. Anyone who ever dared love you, died. You couldn't help them. You couldn't even defeat Voldemort, so what makes you think you'll be able to defeat me? After all, I _am_ what you fear most in this world."

Something twitched within her, tugging at the edge of her consciousness; but before she follow the thread, the shadow opened its dark, gaping abyss of a mouth, "Now, what shall I make you do? What would break you? Oh, I know."

Another form materialized closer to the ground. His dark head bowed to the ground, his arms tied behind his back. The shadow-man stepped up closer, resting a deformed hand on the back of his captor's neck. " _Kill him…_ "

Hermione felt herself take a step forward, then another, and another before coming to a stop before the kneeling man. She raised her wand and opened her mouth to give the command, when the boy lifted his head, emerald-green eyes staring up at her in both fear and a healthy dose of defiance.

She froze. Arm raised. Mouth open. As a sense of recognition swept through her. Everything in her urged her to say the words. The words that would end this nobody's life; but something... _something_...was telling her that he wasn't simply a nobody. This was someone. Someone special. Someone _important_. Frowning, she searched her mind and felt nothing but darkness. A darkness so thick it was both all-consuming and nauseating. _That's not right...is it?_ She asked herself as she continued to stare into the green eyes. Eyes that were now pleading with her. Calling to her. Showing his love...for her.

" _Kill him!"_ the man shouted, his hand squeezing around the other's throat.

 _Who is he? Why does it matter if he lives? He's..._

"Hermione…" he croaked.

Her eyes widened as something ripped through her mind and the darkness quickly began dissipating. Anger laced her blood and set fire to her bones as she shook off the being's control like a scratchy blanket. Blinking rapidly and breathing heavily, she wrenched her arm upwards and shouted, "RIDIKULOUS!"

She barely had time to watch the man transform into a harmless kitten, as an ominous growl sounded behind her just before an only slightly smaller version of the three-headed dog, Fluffy, leapt from the brush. Screaming at the unexpected surprise, she fumbled with her wand and shot off spell after spell until a stunning curse finally stopped it. Her eyes followed its black-furred body as its momentum kept it moving forward, towards her. She jumped out of the way, but not far enough as the beast's weight collapsed atop her ankle.

She tried wrenching her leg out from under him as she shot off curses that would make even the most battle-hardened goblin blush. Just as she was about to start kicking the prone body with her other foot, an overwhelming sense of sadness enveloped her, immediately sucking out what little happiness she had found in this time. Quickly, what little light she had was burnt out by a darkness that was three-times thicker than the darkest night sky and the very air grew still.

"For bloody fuck's sake." she growled, slightly panicking as she had yet to remove the dog from her leg. Her breathing picked up as she watched the dementors grew closer, her fight to free herself growing wilder by the second. Tears prickled her eyes as her hand unconsciously reached for her locket when one of her attackers got too close, The lights dimmed further as they collectively began performing the Kiss on her. Shaking her head to clear the sudden fog, she clenched her wand and thought of Neville's excitement of attending Hogwarts, how it felt to be loved by Theo, and Harry's smile and open arms as he rushed to hug her after winning a Quidditch Match.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " she screamed as they circled her in the dozens. In an instant, a tiny otter flew from the tip of her wand in a brilliant show of blue light and went after the Dementors like a ravenous lion - ripping through them as if they were no more than the mist that surrounded her.

Once they were gone, Hermione felt as if she could breathe normally in an instant. Her hand numbly fell from her necklace and onto the ground, a small oval imprint on her palm. She could feel her magic reserves teetering on the edge, just needing that one last push to be completely depleted.

"TEN!"

"NINE!"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me! I've finished all the tasks you bleedin' twits!" With renewed vigour, Hermione began shoving the rest of her body against the still unconscious beast.

"EIGHT!"

"SEVEN!"

"Shite, shite, shite!" Hermione cried as she took her wand and began to magically shove the unconscious dog off of her leg.

"SIX!"

"FIVE!"

She climbed to her feet, her head turning trying to find the exit to this gods-be-damned maze. She promised herself that if she was ever within seeing distance of one - ever again - she had permission to set it ablaze in righteous glory. The authorities be damned.

"FOUR!"

"THREE!"

Hermione hobbled toward a random hedge wall in what she could only assume was the direction she needed to go, before raising her wand for the final time and blasting a hole in it. Her lashes immediately shuddered as they tried to protect her eyes from the overwhelmingly bright light of the sun as it tore through the darkness and lit up her surroundings.

"TWO!"

She threw herself forward.

"ONE!"

And hit the ground at Dumbledore's feet. She looked up into his sparkling blue eyes, heard him say something that sounded like _Outstanding performance, Miss Granger!_ ; and in her magically-drained, discombobulated state she was pretty sure she responded with something that sounded like _Arse_.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's Chapter 29! I'm uploading these, one right after the other, so if you've yet to read chapter 27 and 28 then please do so! I was hoping to have chapter 30 up today as well, but it doesn't look like it's going to happen. I'll try and get that and maybe one more up this weekend. Thanks everyone! Enjoy! xo

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"And then she was like POW! And then she was over here like YOU FU-"

"Neville Augustus Longbottom! I _know_ you weren't about to say what I _think_ you were." Hermione croaked quietly from where she lay unmoving in the hospital wing bed.

"Oh, she's waking."

Hermione frowned as she tried to force her eyes open, flashbacks of her time spent in the coma rushing through her head. After a few twitches and an audible growl of frustration, she finally managed the task - rapidly blinking away the black spots that had taken over her vision, obscuring whatever the hell was hovering over her head. As the spots began to disappear one by one, the _thing_ quickly became a _face_.

"Sirius?"

"We've got to stop meeting like this, Kitten. It's bound to rouse suspicion." Sirius grinned, his grey eyes sparkling in the evening light pouring through the windows.

"The bloody hell you doin' here?" she asked, doing her best not to notice how close he actually was - nor that his breath held the scent of her favourite toothpaste.

Laughing, he took a couple steps back to allow her to see the room and its many occupants. "I - we - were all watching you kick some serious arse out there today. The kid over here hasn't stopped spouting your glorious praises since you passed out after the maze."

At the reminder of a certain little boy who had most certainly picked up on some adult language, she scanned over the faces of Albus, Minerva, and Augusta to finally land on said boy who was currently blushing to the roots of his hair. Staring sternly in his direction, she watched him defiantly stare back for one...two...three...four seconds before he bowed his head with a whispered _sorry_.

Waiting just a moment longer she let herself find amusement in the situation and opened her arms, beckoning him forward. When he noticed her invitation, he rushed over and climbed up beside her. As he moved, her eyes caught a pair of legs behind him. She let her eyes trail up slightly-muddied jeans, up to a black and blue flannel, a neck with a long scar trailing down to the collarbone, and up into spring-green eyes framed by slightly shaggy light brown hair.

Brown eyes growing wide, her brain shut down, the sound of violins playing in the distance as they shared their final dance together. "R…" she choked, "Uhm…hello. I don't believe we've met before." She tightened her arms around Neville attempting to ground herself in the earthen scent of his hair until the ghostly music faded completely.

"Remus Lupin, Miss Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you. I apologize for showing up at your bedside, but Sirius absolutely insisted I come."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow in Sirius' direction, "Did he now?" Looking back towards her wolfy friend, she smiled as reassuringly as she could manage, "It's nice to meet you, Remus; and, please, call me Hermione. Seems only fair considering you've seen me in this." She laughed as she picked with slight disgust at the patched pajamas Madam Pomfrey had seemingly put her in. "So, surely I wasn't brought here just because I passed out?"

"If only that were the case, Miss Granger. Magical depletion, muscles ripped from living plants and bloody acromantulas, and I've had to mend the bones in your ankle from where that blasted dog fell on you. The _nerve_ you have Albus, you old fool. She's supposed to be preparing for the school year, not here lying in one of _my_ beds from something _you_ insisted she do. Completely absurd, I tell you! You just wait; Albus Dumbledore, you and I are going to have words later!"

Hermione rapidly blinked, mouth open wide in a mirror image of everyone surrounding her bed as they all stared over at the fuming matron who was currently bustling about with vials piled in her arms. The silence ticked on until laughter bubbled up within Hermione, causing her body to shake. Neville felt the movement and turned his head to look at her. Noticing she was trying to hold in her laughter, causing her cheeks to turn bright red, Neville felt a smile blooming before he began to laugh alongside her. As the others began to slowly join in, Madam Pomfrey stopped and graced each of them with a fierce glare - of which was mostly nostalgic for not only Hermione, but Sirius and Remus as well - before muttering under her breath and stomping off to her office.

"Well, I think it best if Minerva and I depart for the evening. Come see me in the morning, Hermione. I've given the other Professors until then to turn in your marks."

"We need to be leaving as well. Neville, come." Augusta stood from where she sat and looked at her grandson expectantly.

Neville nodded and planted a kiss on Hermione's cheek. "Bye, Hermione." Just as he was getting up from the bed, a thought struck him causing him to jump back up and nearly jostle the both of them onto the floor. "I nearly forgot! We've changed plans for my birthday! Gran and Mr. Potter decided to just combine the parties as we're inviting the same people anyways! Can you come?"

"I was coming in the first place, love. It doesn't matter whether it's held at Longbottom Manor or in Godric's Hollow."

"Godric's Hollow?" Sirius frowned, "They live at Potter Manor. How do you even know about Godric's Hollow?"

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione asked.

Sirius stared down at her in what appeared to be a mixture of both confusion and suspicion. "How do you know about Godric's Hollow?"

Hermione blinked, trying to focus her thoughts. Fortunately for her Remus answered for her. "Oh shove off, Pads. Can't you leave that auror nonsense behind for a bit? All Pureblood properties can easily be found in the Ministry listings. Who doesn't know about Godric's Hollow?"

Sirius glanced up at his friend before returning his attention to Hermione. "That still doesn't explain why she would think they live there."

Hermione shrugged, doing her best to appear nonchalant about the whole ordeal. "If you'll remember I had a _very_ traumatic experience not that long ago and am now suffering from magical drainage. So, you'll forgive me if I've muddled up the facts."

He continued to stare down at her in thought and was just about to say something when Augusta cut him off. "Oh give it a rest, Mr. Black. I can vouch for the girl and if you have anything further to say, I will be duty-bound to challenge you to a duel; and I promise you _boy_ , you do _not_ want my wand pointed in your direction."

Silence claimed the room once more as the Lord and Lady stared at one another, before Sirius ultimately backed down. "My apologies, Lady Longbottom. It won't happen again."

Nodding her head sharply, "Right. See that it doesn't. Neville, come."

Neville looked between his Gran, Sirius, and Hermione before he decided it was in his best interest to do as his dearest grandmother ordered. Taking the time to give Hermione one more kiss on the cheek, he scampered off the bed and followed his grandmother out of the room.

As the click of the lock seemingly echoed around the three remaining occupants, not a second more passed before Sirius was turning back around, "I'll make you a deal, Kitten."

Hermione snorted, "Sorry, but I don't make deals with the devil and stop calling me that."

Remus laughed, "Well, she does appear to have those claws you spoke so highly of."

Quirking an eyebrow in his direction, she looked up at Sirius, "You've been talking about me?"

Sirius simply smiled and shrugged, "Don't get too big a head, love. I talk about every pretty thing I cross paths with. Now, do you want to hear the deal or not?"

She rolled her eyes at his antics, but ultimately decided to play his little game. "Fine. What is it?"

He grinned, his cheeks pulling tight and thin wrinkles pulling at the corners of his eyes. "Well, I'll keep my word with Lady Longbottom... _if_...you let me take you to dinner."

"Sirius! She's practically bedridden and you're asking her out on a _date_? You can't be serious, mate!"

"Oh, but I am Sirius, Moony. You've known me since first year!"

Hermione tried really, _really_ hard not to roll her eyes; but by the exasperated laugh she received from Remus, she knew she hadn't really tried that hard. Tilting her head back and forth, stretching out the tense muscles in her neck, she sighed. "Look, gentlemen. I appreciate you visiting with me, but I'm tired. Sirius, I have no intention of dating you or anyone else in the foreseeable future. If I am able to secure the Defence position, then my first priority are the children residing in this castle. Remus, it was lovely to meet you. I hope we cross paths again soon."

She watched as they retreated from the room after giving equally polite goodbyes, before curling up on her side and staring out the window into the darkening sky. The blues and indigos began to blur as tears slowly dripped from her eyes and violins of a time long passed slowly began to filter in.

* * *

Five potions, twenty minutes of stretching, and two days later Hermione found herself standing in the center of Longbottom Manor's sitting room. Twitching fingers ran nervously down the sides of her simple lavender dress, over and over again. Her eyes flicking back and forth between the shelves of large tomes that stood taller than she, and yet she felt no draw to them. Nothing, but an overwhelming anxiety about finally, _finally_ meeting Harry. Well, _this_ Harry. Truth be told, she felt as if she were about to be sick all over Augusta's thousand pound Persian area rug.

"Hermione! You're here!"

She quickly turned towards the double-paned doors and saw a neatly dressed Neville charging towards her, nearly bubbling over in his excitement. What tension she held in her shoulders lessened as she felt Neville's small, lanky arms wrap around her waist, his head coming to rest just under her chest.

Running a hand down his neatly combed hair, she took a step back and forced a smile. "Happy birthday, love. Ready for the party?"

"Yes! I can't wait to see my friends and tell them all about you! They're going to love you. Oh, they're going to be _so_ jealous that you're _my_ Aunt and not theirs." Neville grinned mischievously.

Hermione stared down at him for a moment, flashes of the eleven-year-old Neville _she_ had known at that age flickering in and out of reality. The difference was surreal. Where that one slumped and stuttered, this one stood tall and confident - at least most of the time. She was amazed and yet saddened by the changes. The boy she had known had grown up into quite the exceptional young man, and she could only hope she could help do the same for this one.

Together they stood in silence for several moments, Hermione doing all she could to stand and Neville playing with the buttons on his shirt when he noticed her legs were trembling. When he looked up he noticed her colour was a bit off. "Hermione? Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Yes, fine. Why?"

"Your legs are shaking. Are they acting up again? Do we need to tell Gran that we need to go to St. Mungo's instead?"

Hermione chuckled and bent down to his level. "And miss your big birthday celebration? No way! I'm fine, Neville. Just a bit of nerves is all."

His frown deepened, but just as he was about to open his mouth to ask why, his gran walked into the room in a flourish of burgundy cloth.

"Hermione, dear. Lovely to see you again. Are we all set then?"

They both nodded quietly and watched as Augusta swept over to a bowl filled with green sand sitting on an elegant iron wrought stand next to the fireplace. They watched as she called out for Potter Manor and disappeared into the green flames. Reaching down, she gently placed her hand atop Neville's shoulder and gave him a gentle nudge forward. "I'm right behind you, Neville. Remember it can be a bit of a rough landing on the other side. Just be sure to take a step or two to the side so I don't tumble into you. Okay?"

Neville nodded and as she watched the boy disappear into the green flames she sighed. Closing her eyes, she tossed her head back and thought on how, exactly, she was going to make it through the next couple of hours without completely bungling everything up. Taking a moment to relax her breathing and ensure her beaded bag was tucked neatly into her side, she stepped forward and into the green flames.

* * *

"So, you're who Neville keeps on about. He absolutely adores you, you know."

Hermione smiled and, for a moment, her breath caught in her throat as an image of Ginny smiled at her. Blinking a couple times, willing it away, she saw green eyes instead of blue and her hair was much darker, nearly auburn, in colour. "As I adore him, I'm sure." turning to face her more fully, thus preventing her eyes from playing tricks on her, she asked, "Just as much as I'm sure you adore your little Harry."

She watched closely for any sign of deceit - ready to wield her wand and whisk her brother away from another terrible home - but found none and, thus, kept her wand securely tucked up her dress sleeve. What she did find was a slow, sweet smile spreading across the lady's face as she looked over towards the two boys surrounded by their group of friends. "I find that there's not much else I adore more than him. Though don't tell James. He'd be awfully offended."

A burst of laughter escaped her in a completely unexpected rush causing her to toss her head back and unknowingly draw the attention of the room - one occupant in particular. Finally calming herself she grinned and stuck out her hand, "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Hermione Granger, Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Lily lit up like the sun, "Oh, believe me, I know who you are. Between Neville and Sirius, I feel as if I've known you for ages. I'm also holding a bit of a grudge seeing as you're the woman who managed to not only take seven NEWTs, but score an O on each of them. You beat my record of six. I'm bloody well jealous."

Hermione frowned, "What in the bloody hell does Sirius have to say? I've met the bloke twice."

Lily laughed and smiled mischievously, "Oh, no. Neville gives me all the personality traits. Sirius, on the other hand, well as I'm sure you've gathered, very much appreciates the female form. However, he only referred to you as _my Kitten_ for the most part, so I couldn't be sure if it was you or not."

The longer Lily talked the further Hermione's brows rose up her forehead. It wasn't much longer that she was practically grinding her teeth. Only half listening to what her new friend was saying, she let her eyes scan the room until they locked on one Sirius Black - who was currently staring right back at her with firewhisky in hand and an odd look on his face.

Frowning, Hermione asked, "Why's he looking at me like that?"

"Hmm? Who?" Lily questioned, turning her head to look over the room as well. It didn't take long for her to find the culprit and roll her eyes. "Ah, see, I told you he seems to be fixated. I've never seen it before. It's quite odd really. Don't get me wrong, I love Sirius to pieces. He's James' brother; but he is a bit of a...shall we say, philanderer."

Nodding, Hermione smirked and returned her attention to Lily. "Believe me, I noticed." Crossing her arms over her chest she adjusted her position until her back was more fully against the wall.

"You're not used to being around large groups are you, Hermione?"

"What? What makes you say that?"

Lily laughed and linked her arm through the defensive witch's. "I say that because in the time you and I have been speaking: your hands have twitched for your wand twice, you have your attention diverted between me - to be polite - and everyone else in the room especially Harry and Neville, and you've secluded yourself as far as possible from the crowd. I mean, honestly, even Augusta is over there carrying on with Arthur. I promise we don't bite, Hermione."

Her lips grew thinner and thinner the longer Lily spoke the truths of Hermione's life until finally she exhaled sharply. "Yes, you're right; but from what I've heard, you nearly always are. I...my late childhood wasn't exactly...pleasant. I lived alone for a long time, so, I'm just...nervous."

The other witch nodded thoughtfully, tightening their elbow link slightly. "I completely understand. Why don't you walk around with me and I'll introduce you to some people, yeah? If you're too uncomfortable at any point, let me know and I'll let you return to your little hidey-hole. However, you won't be spending the entirety of the party there. I'll give you shorts breaks to recollect yourself and then you _will_ join us. Understood?"

Hermione's mouth flapped open and closed like a fish out of water as she waited for her brain to process the fiery witch's words. When it finally caught up, she laughed and tightened their link herself. "I do believe I'm a little bit in love with you, Lady Potter."

They both giggled as Lily guided her around the room, introducing the nervous witch to her friends. Friends that, hopefully, they could both share one day. It was as they were nearing the Terrible Trio that she felt Hermione stiffen slightly. Looking over and asking if she was alright, Hermione simply nodded and kept focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

The two witches came to a stop before the three men. "Hello." Hermione said, giving a single wave of acknowledgement.

"Hello again, Hermione. I'm glad to see you're doing well after your potions accident. You did absolutely smashing at your test the other day, too. Nearly as exciting as a game of Quidditch. And congratulations on your new position. I know the boys are excited for the coming year." James greeted with a smile, wrapping his arm around Lily's waist and tugging her into his side.

"Thank you, James. I must say I'm excited myself to see what the year has in store for us. I'm afraid these little hell-beasts may just overtake me." Hermione laughed, being careful to avoid Sirius' gaze.

"You'll be absolutely fine, Hermione, and if they don't behave simply give them detention. Merlin knows we had our fair share of it in school." Remus grinned.

Hermione eyed him carefully. "Yes, and I can see you're completely changed men for it."

"Why of course, Madame. We are nothing but upstanding wizarding citizens." Remus winked and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle before looking in Sirius' direction.

"Hello, Sirius. Doing well?"

He simply took a long sip of his whisky and nodded. "Fine, thanks. Still not want to go on that date?"

Hermione's smile was all teeth, "I'm good, thanks. I'm afraid I've got a terribly long list of things to do before the school year starts."

Sirius grinned and took a step closer, "Well, if you need any help _doing_ anything for yourself, just let me know. I'm more than happy to assist in the matter. I've been told I'm quite good with my hands...amongst other things."

She stared up at him for a total of two frozen seconds before tossing her head back and laughing. "Changed men, indeed."

"Indeed, Kitten." Sirius murmured his grey eyes bright with excitement and firewhisky.

Hermione shook her head and turned to find Lily, when she noticed the woman was frowning and looking over the room. "Lily? Everything alright?"

She nodded, "Yes, I just thought Peter said he would be coming today. James did he cancel last minute?"

James shrugged and took a swig of his ale, "Not that I'm aware; but you know how Wormtail is, love. He's forgetful. I'm sure we'll hear from him in the next day or so with the typical array of apologies."

Hearing that name, Hermione who had currently been mid-sip of her pumpkin juice choked and sputtered until Remus began pounding her on the back, nearly toppling her. "Alright?"

She nodded quickly, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth. "Yes, sorry. Just got a bit choked up there. Does anyone have the time by chance?"

"It's a quarter past four." James called out. "Do you have to leave?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I do. I have a lot of things to sort out and organize at the school. Especially as I was brought on so late, I've only a month left to ensure everything is ready for the students."

Lily smiled, "We completely understand. It's hard to believe that in a month's time Harry will be starting his very first year at Hogwarts. The old adage of time flies surely does ring true once children are involved. Oh, but can you wait around for the pressies?"

Hermione thought on it and figured another half hour wouldn't hurt; besides she still needed to give Neville his present. Once she quietly agreed, Lily beamed and called everyone to attention. Together they all sang to the two grinning boys and while cake was being passed around, the eleven-year-olds ripped into their gifts. Forty-five minutes later and about a dozen toys for each of the boys, including the gifts from Hermione – a golden snitch with Harry's initials engraved and an ancient copy of a Herbology text for rare plants – and Hermione was finally able to say her goodbyes.

Another fifteen minutes and she was back in the Potter sitting room, grasping a handful of green sand. Just as she was about to toss it into the fireplace, she heard footsteps closing in behind her. Without thinking, she dropped her wand to her hand and swiftly turned on her heel, the tip of the wood pressing firmly into her follower's neck.

"Sirius?" she asked, lowering her wand. "Sorry about that. Reflex is all."

Sirius ignored the question floating around in his head about why, exactly, she would have a reflex like that, but instead shook his head, "That's alright."

"Did you need something?" she asked, taking a step back so their bodies weren't so nearly touching.

Running a hand through his dark, dark hair, he sighed. "Look, I just wanted to apologize for how I've acted lately. It's just...I don't know...it's whatever, really; but...yeah...I meant it. If you need help, the guys and I are more than willing to stop by and do some heavy lifting for you...not to say you can't do it yourself...I just mean... _for fuck's sake_ , I'm bungling this to hell and back, aren't I?"

Hermione laughed softly and shook her head. "I understand what you're trying to say and thank you for the offer. I'll keep it in mind if I have any...heavy lifting...I need help with."

Waving her goodbye, she took the final step into the fireplace and disappeared into the green flames, just to shoot out three seconds later in a cloud of dust and ash into her new living quarters. Taking a moment to collect herself, she walked towards the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. Reaching blindly for the towel that hung on a circle, bronze holder, she patted her face dry and stared into the mirror.

 _Peter is here...how could I have forgotten about that putrid little beast?_ She asked herself. Dragging her hands down her face, with shoulders hunched, she let herself have this one moment of weakness. One moment to cry for the man and woman who lost their lives thanks to the betrayal of one they called friend, to cry for the man who had his life destroyed for twelve years holed up in Azkaban thanks to that same friend, and for the wolf who lost his pack and the man who lost his family because of that _very...same...person_.

Growling, Hermione glared at her reflection and determined that _Peter_ would never again betray anyone else. _Ever_.


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any canon characters or situations in the Harry Potter Universe; nor am I paid for this. I just play in their world in no small thanks to Rowling's generosity.

 **Warnings:** Story content contains strong language, violence, and graphic sexual scenes.

 **A/N:** Here's Chapter 30! This is probably the longest chapter I've written for this story thus far. I planned on cutting it off, multiple times; but then I was like fuck it. LOL. You all deserve a long chapter and all the love for your patience. I hope you enjoy loveys! xo

* * *

Hermione tightened her hold on Neville's hand as they took another couple steps forward in the never-ending line that was streaming from Flourish and Blotts in anticipation of the famed Selina Sapworthy's newest publication, _Taming Your Snargaluff in Seven Easy Steps_. When Neville had shared what, exactly, they were to be getting that morning, she had inwardly scoffed as memories of her sixth year Herbology class came to life.

 _It sprang to life at once; long, prickly, bramble-like vines flying out of the top and whipping around sharply through the air like the decisive swing of a sword. She stood a couple steps back, Harry and Ron on either side of her, staring at it apprehensively._

" _So? Who wants to go first then?" When neither answered, she huffed in exasperation and pulled her over-large leather gloves up until the sleeve was repositioned just under her elbow. "Right, then. I suppose I'll go you spineless gits."_

 _Taking a deep breath, she took a hesitant step forward, then another, doing her best to dodge the vines as they whistled past._

" _Hermione?"_

 _Turning to look towards Harry, she failed to see the vine she had just dodged change direction and shoot straight towards her. Tangling in her already frazzled hair, she squealed as she was slightly jerked back, her hands going up to surround the entangled vine to prevent her hair being completely ripped out of her scalp._

 _She watched as Ron, stuttering in panic, picked up a pair of secateurs lying on an adjacent table and began to beat at the sentient plant like his very life depended on it. Harry quickly stepped in and grabbed several of the swarming tendrils and began to messily knot them together. Looking up through slightly skewed glasses, he watched as she rapidly began untangling herself with such fierce irritation he nearly wondered if she would be able to knock the plant-beast into submission with the soul-freezing glare she was currently sending its way._

 _Mouth twisted in distaste as she watched the large, gaping abyss of a mouth began to open and decided it was now or never. Inhaling sharply - eyes squinting tightly closed - she plunged her arm into the slick darkness, nearly cursing as the hole closed like a muggle bear trap around her elbow. Struggling against its hold and wincing as Harry and Ron began to both simultaneously pull on her other arm and fight off the vines that had freed themselves. Within moments, the hole opened once more and she took the opportunity to snatch her arm free - a silvery-blue pod the size of an acorn clenched in her slightly dripping fingers._

 _Almost instantly, the prickly tentacles folded themselves back inside and the gnarled stump sat there looking like an innocently dead lump of wood. She looked up from the pod with a satisfied smirk and promptly laughed at her sweating and bedraggled friends._

Shaking her head, Hermione looked down towards Neville who wasn't perturbed in the slightest about the wait and smiled. Sighing quietly, she lifted her hand and began to run it through his slightly wind-mussed hair. Smiling brown eyes looked up at her with such excitement she could instantly feel her momentary sadness beginning to dissipate.

Neville grinned and returned his attention to the people swarming around them in their attempts at getting their own children ready for the upcoming school year - Hermione did not fail to notice, however, how his head slightly leaned into her touch regardless of who noticed. She smiled again and wondered how long this affectionate side of him would last. She knew and completely understood the necessity of not showing one student more attention than the others, but she would be lying to herself if she said she wouldn't miss it.

Taking that thought to heart, she dropped her arm to his shoulder and pulled him closer, slightly digging her fingers into his armpit causing him to squirm and giggle. Refusing to acknowledge the multitude of passersby and how they all flickered in and out in her peripheral. Refusing to give way to the building anxiety of being in a place that had long been destroyed in her time.

So, the two of them continued passing the time playing with one another and talking about the new school year, when finally they entered the store and Neville latched onto his desired book like it was his life's blood. Laughing quietly to herself, Hermione let her eyes trail over the various books lining their path and breathed deeply. Just under the nearly overwhelming scent of sweat, she was able to smell, although faintly, the scent of fresh and old ink-stained papers and magically treated leather. Taking Neville's school requirement list out of her bag, she glanced over the list of books he would need and began to pull them off the shelves. Hermione's fingers lingered over the last book on the list, but pulled her hand back as a thought struck her.

Just when Hermione thought she might actually topple from the weight of her load, they reached the front of the line. She waited patiently for Neville to pass over the required galleons for his purchases - keeping an eye on the somewhat shifty attendant and ensuring he didn't try anything due to the size of the boy's coin purse. In what felt to be nothing more than a blink of an eye, they were back on the overcrowded streets.

"Where would you like to go next?" she asked, handing over his school list as she made work of putting away his books in her bag.

Neville shrugged. "Uhm," he paused, his eyes quickly scanning over the list, "Gran says we've got an appointment next week for the clothes I'll need...and we've got plenty of phials and cauldrons at home." he paused again before practically squealing in delight. "A wand! Can we go to Ollivander's now?"

Hermione nodded her consent and took his hand. "We most certainly can. Now, we're going to have to maneuver our way through to the other side of the street, yeah? So be sure to hold on tight as it's a bit more crowded than when we got here...at five in the morning…"

Neville blushed, but let out a light chuckle as he took her hand and squeezed. "Thank you for coming with me today. Gran and I really appreciate it and everything else you do for us...for me."

Smiling, she squeezed his hand in return and began to pull him forward. "No thanks needed, love. You're stuck with me. Now, let's get a move on or else we'll be trampled by the masses. Ready?"

At his nod, she pulled him a bit closer and began to elbow her way forward, ignoring the glares and mumbled curses being thrown at her. By the time they had reached the other side of the cobble-stoned street, Hermione had given no less than three people the finger, insulted a man's endowment, and had a fine sheen of sweat lining her face.

She glanced down at Neville to ensure he was okay, only to find him grinning up at her with devious delight, she rolled her eyes and continued down the sidewalk until they were standing in front of a rather small storefront, the gold-lettering of the sign only marginally peeling. Opening the door, a light tinkle of a chime announcing their presence, she gently ushered Neville inside - sighing in relief as there appeared to only be one other small group inside.

Hermione waited for the others to finish their business, allowing her eyes to trail over the familiar old man with wispy white hair and large grey eyes. Smiling inwardly, she averted her eyes towards the slightly dusty boxes that lined the shelves and waited their turn as she thought back on her own experience in this magical place.

 _She stood in front of the large wooden counter practically vibrating in nervous excitement. She was_ finally _getting her_ wand _. A wand of all things! Bouncing on her toes, she placed her fingers on the counter and lifted herself up just enough to see an older gentleman smiling warmly down at her._

" _Hullo there, child. Who might you be?"_

" _My name's Hermione Jean Granger and I'm here to get my wand!" she squealed in delight._

 _The old man laughed, looking up towards her mystified parents and a rather studiously dressed woman. "Got yourself another Gryffindor I'd say, eh Minerva?"_

 _The woman smiled, taking a moment to straighten her glasses as she glanced down at the excited young girl. "One can only hope, Garrick. Now, if you please."_

 _Nodding his head, he removed his wand from his waistcoat and smiled. "Alright, Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I'm going to need to measure you real quick, alright? It'll only take a moment, but I need you to hold still."_

 _Hermione nodded and immediately snapped her arms and legs close to her body, chin held high, nearly as if someone had just cast a_ Petrificus _upon her. Chuckling, he moved her into a more relaxed position with her right arm held out. Flicking his wand, he summoned his magical tape measure._

 _Eyes wide in wonder, she watched as the thin yellow strand wrapped around her arm and every which way before moving to encircle her waist and measure her from hip to shoulder._

 _Nodding his head and muttering something under his breath, he disappeared behind the counter and down a large skinny hallway lined with shelves upon shelves of thin rectangular boxes. He returned moments later with three boxes in his arms and laughed when he noticed Hermione had yet to move. "Oh, dear girl, you can move now. Come on; let's see which is fit for you."_

 _Hermione cautiously stepped up to the counter as she watched him remove the lids of all three boxes. Each were different, but special in their own way - of that she was sure._

" _I have here a ten and a quarter inch, walnut, Veela hair core, pliable. Try it out. Go on."_

 _Reaching up, she took the proffered piece of wood into her hand and promptly screamed when a shelf off to her right burst into wooden bits._

 _The shop was quiet for a moment as parents, Professor, and famed wand maker stared on in both shock and amusement._

" _Alright, that would be a most definite no to that one." he chuckled as he removed the wand from her hand and replaced it back in its original container. Reaching for the second, he smiled encouragingly. "Don't be frightened, Miss Granger. It's not the first, nor the last, time something such as this has happened in this shop. Now, here I have an eleven inch, mahogany, unicorn hair, pleasantly springy."_

 _Looking hesitantly up at her parents for a moment, she reached for the second offering. Inhaling sharply she waited for something_ else _to go disastrously wrong, but found that all this particular wand did was, well, nothing. Frowning, she looked up at Ollivander and passed the wand into his waiting hand, taking the final wand as he said, "This is a ten and a half inch, ash, thestral hair, very pliable."_

 _Flicking it once, she waited and waited for something to happen and when nothing did she quickly burst into tears. She dropped the wand on the counter and covered her face with her hands as her mother rushed over and hugged her. "What does this mean?" she asked, holding her wailing daughter closer, only slightly wincing at the pitch._

" _It simply means that we haven't found the right one yet. Not to worry, Miss Granger. You_ will _find a wand here, even if I have to make one for you right this very moment." Watching the young girl pull herself together and stare up at him with hope and a sense of defiant entitlement, an idea struck him. He shuffled to the back once more before quickly returning with one more box._

"Ah, this is quite a special wand. Special, indeed. It has a core made of phoenix feather. A feather from a particular phoenix that only gave one other that year. I do believe this is meant for great things, Mr. Potter. Great things indeed."

Head snapping forward, brown eyes locked onto a messy head of black hair that could in no way be mistaken for anything other than a Potter. Feeling her stomach tighten as she heard the old wand maker's words, she gently touched Neville's shoulder and nudged him forward.

"Harry?" she called out, hoping her smile didn't appear to be as nervous as she felt.

The head turned and she met bright green eyes, ones that were confused for a moment before lighting up in recognition. "Hullo, Hermione! Neville!"

"Hiya, Harry!" Neville called out cheerily, as he met Harry in the middle for a small hug.

"I see you've been suckered into taking the boy shopping."

Grinning, Hermione looked up from the two boys to spot her newly-acquired redheaded friend. "Hey, Lily; and I was suckered in early on. The bloody wee thing had me promising to help him before I'd even been discharged from the hospital!"

Together they laughed, Lily turning around and waving the rest of her group forward. "James, Remus, don't be rude. Come say hello to Hermione!"

Hermione shyly waved as they began to approach and was only slightly thrown off kilter when James promptly wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. Choking due to a momentary lack of air, she quickly regained her senses and did her level best not to kick him in his shin. "Hello to you too, James. I see _you_ got suckered into taking _your_ boy shopping."

James simply shrugged and smiled down at his wife. "I'd like to agree with you, but I think _I'm_ more excited for him to start school than Lily is. Empty-nest and all that rubbish."

"I do believe that's the understatement of the century, Prongs." Remus laughed, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "He was practically bouncing off the walls this morning in anticipation of the day's events. He was like a child hopped up on a euphoria elixir."

Lily laughed her agreement, before a thought suddenly struck her. "Oh! What are the both of you doing after this?"

Hermione shrugged, "I'm not sure. I promised him the day, so it's whatever he would like to do. We still need to pop over and get his familiar, but afterwards…"

Lily clapped excitedly, "Wonderful! We need to get Harry one as well! Let's walk over together and then pop somewhere for a bite? I know once Sirius finishes up with his crew, he'll be about ready to eat me out of house and home! What do you say?"

Frowning and brow slightly creasing, she asked, "His crew?"

Lily nodded, her red hair flying. "Yeah, I think he said that Reg and his bunch were popping into Quality Quidditch Supplies for a bit to get some things for their eldest. It's Castor's fourth year I believe and a...James what position is he?"

"He's a Chaser of course! Anyone related to me _must_ be a Chaser, it's by far the best spot on the team."

Besides trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Sirius had family - family of which he got along with - her brain changed tracks immediately. "Chaser? Really? What happens if Harry is, I don't know, a Seeker?"

James scoffed, a finger coming up to push the nosepiece of his glasses up further. "As if _my son_ would ever be anything other than a Chaser."

Hermione simply tilted her head, a wicked gleam in her eye. "You sound pretty confident in that. Care to place a wager, then?"

Setting his shoulders, he shoved his open hand out towards her. "Alright, then. If he becomes anything _other_ than a Seeker, what do you want?"

Sticking her hand out to meet his, she slapped her palm against his and squeezed. "I want an open-end deal. I win, I get the choice of reward. Same goes for you if you win, which you won't."

Nodding his head, he squeezed her hand. "Deal."

"Witnessed!" Lily cheered.

"Seconded!" Remus called out, his chest slightly shaking as he tried to hold in his laughter. Looking towards Hermione, he grinned. "That's quite the deal. Could have either fortuitous or devastating consequences. Are you sure you're up for that?"

"No take backsies!" James sing-songed, his fingers wagging in time with his slight off-pitch tune, "Now, I know I heard something about food a moment ago. Are you game or not, love?"

Hesitating, Hermione looked over towards her still whispering boys and shrugged. "Hey, Neville?"

"Yeah?" he asked, his head turning to look in her direction.

"The Potters and their lot have to stop by the familiar shop after here as well and then want to get lunch somewhere. Would you like to go?"

Harry's face lit up and he quickly turned back towards his friend, "You have to come! Please! You've been so busy with your Gran I haven't gotten to see you lately and you _promised_ that we could have another go at exploding snap!"

Neville looked at Harry and then up towards Hermione, smiling bashfully. "Are you sure you're okay with it, Hermione? I know you only promised to take me shopping today."

Hermione smiled, "Love, today is all about you. I don't care what we get into. Just as long as it's something you want to do, we'll do it. So I take it you'd like to go, then?"

Neville nodded and Hermione turned towards her eagerly awaiting audience. "I suppose we're going then. Let me just get Neville settled here and then we can be off. Neville, come meet Mr. Ollivander. We've kept him waiting long enough."

Hermione followed Neville to the counter and smiled at the shopkeeper. "Hello, my little man here needs to acquire his very first wand today."

Smiling, Mr. Ollivander looked down at the nervous little boy and pulled out his own wand. "Right then, let's get a good look at ya. Hold still, while I take some quick measurements." The yellow tape began to twist and turn and straighten along Neville's arm and torso, Ollivander dutifully documenting the results. "Right then. Let me see what I've got for you my boy. I'll just be a moment."

Disappearing towards the back, Hermione took the chance to grab Neville's attention. "Now, I'm sure your Gran has told you countless times that the wand chooses the wizard. Mr. Ollivander is about to bring several out and I want to forewarn you that some of them may not be quite right for you and thus have some adverse magical effects."

Neville's brows scrunched, "Like what?"

Hermione snickered as the recent memory of her own wand selection came to the forefront again, "Let's just say, don't be surprised if something happens to explode."

Eyes growing wide, Neville turned back around to face the wand maker as he returned from his storeroom with three boxes varying in shapes and colors. "Right then, Mr. Longbottom. I've here a twelve inch, holly, and thestral hair for its core. Quite unyielding. Go on, give it a go."

Neville hesitantly reached for the thin piece of wood and jumped when the light behind Mr. Ollivander promptly exploded just after his fingertips brushed the surface. Jerking his hand back, he quickly shot out an apology of which was promptly waved off.

"No need for apologies. It's not the first, nor the last, time something of this sort has happened. Needless to say, _this_ particular wand isn't for you." Quickly shutting the wand away, he stared down at his remaining two boxes and reached for the last one he had thought to pull. "Try this one. It's thirteen inches long, cherry wood, and unicorn hair for its core."

When he took a moment longer than expected, Hermione gently rested her hand atop his shoulder and squeezed. "Go on, it's alright."

Nodding, he reached forward once more and wrapped his fingers around the delicate piece of wood. Hermione knew the second the wand had chosen him as its wizard, as the young boy's eyes widened and his cheeks pinked in that sense of pleasure one gets when waking up Christmas morning to a mound of presents and a blanket of crisp snow in the garden. "Give it another try, Neville. I'm willing to bet this one will work perfectly with you."

Raising his arm, he gave a smooth flick of his wrist and watched as multi-colored sparks flew from the tip like miniature fireworks. Giggling with glee, he hugged the wand to his chest. "This is it. This is the one."

Mr. Ollivander nodded with a smile. "It would appear so. Good luck with whatever this magical life gifts you, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville thanked him as he passed over his payment, before running over to Harry and began comparing wands. After thanking Ollivander for his time, Lily and Hermione tried to pry the boys long enough to go to their next stop. It took no less than five minutes and several mentions of _you can play with your wands later_ \- of which Hermione and James found particularly funny - before they were able to separate the two and make their way out of the store.

Making their way down the street, Hermione trailed behind as she attempted to subtly count her coins - given to her by Dumbledore upon officially gaining her Professorship - ensuring she would have enough for what she planned to do. Grimacing when she realized that she would barely have a knut to her name afterwards and simultaneously thanking the Gods for free Hogwarts meals, she tucked her coin purse back in its pocket. Noticing the group was about to enter their intended shop, she jogged the rest of the way and managed to catch the door before it fully closed.

Nose wrinkling at the slight smell of animal musk and fecal matter, her eyes scanned the small shop's walls lined with various cages holding a multitude of different creatures. Making her way through the thickening crowd, she managed to find Neville and Harry - heads bent together - as they both looked around wide-eyed and practically vibrating with excitement.

"Boys, see anything that's caught your fancy?" she asked.

Harry looked up, quickly straightening his glasses. "Mum says I should get a cat."

Nodding, Hermione tilted her head to the side, "Cats _are_ lovely creatures; but I didn't ask what your mum wanted. I asked what _you_ wanted."

Looking around with head tilted back slightly, his eyes scanned the room before freezing on a particular cage set two levels back. Following his line of sight, she felt her lips tug into a tiny smile and nodded. "Owls are wonderful and she looks absolutely beautiful." pausing to turn towards her own kid she asked, "Neville? What about you?"

Blushing slightly, he pointed off to their right and Hermione did her utmost best to keep in her laugh. It would seem both of her boys were of the predictable sort. "A toad? Are you sure?"

Neville's cheeks reddened just a tad bit more, "I know it's not the typical choice for a familiar, but he looks friendly and they need a home just as much as the others."

Smiling softly, she tugged them both close. "You're absolutely right, Neville. Why don't you two continue looking around and I'll be back in just a moment."

Making sure there were adults in their group close by, Hermione slinked her way through the crowd up to the desk and smiled at the lanky, young gentleman that stood only slightly frazzled by the rush standing behind the counter that protected him. Seeing her, he pulled on the hem of his sweater and smiled. "Good afternoon, Miss. How can I help you today?"

"Hullo. I'm interested in purchasing the animals in cages O7 and T12 please."

Nodding, he scribbled down her request before gently levitating said cages towards them. Hermione watched as the metal hit the old wood with a soft _thunk_ , barely upsetting the animals inside. Reaching out, Hermione rested her knuckles against the metal wiring and watched as the quiet white owl slowly leaned forward and gently nipped her with her beak. Smiling, she took a treat from one of the proffered jars on the desk and offered it to the owl.

Leaving the bird to enjoy her little treat, her eyes flicked to the toad that was sitting quietly and staring up at her. Reaching out a finger, she waited for the creature to hop towards her once before letting her finger trail across its leathery head. The toad croaked causing her to chuckle lightly. "You'll both be going home with my kids, yeah? They'll absolutely love you, so all I ask is that you return it once you find them worthy - which I know you will. Alright?"

"Uh, you know they can't understand you, yes?"

Looking up, Hermione's eyebrows raised as she looked up at the clerk's confused face. "They're familiars, of course they understand what I'm saying. Just because they're animals doesn't mean they're unintelligent. I would have thought you'd have known that considering you work with them on a daily basis; but no matter," she said, passing over the required galleons and sickles and took a cage in each hand.

"Sorry, loves, going to be a bit of a bumpy ride until we can get you home. Please forgive any discomfort." she murmured before making her way back over to her lot.

"But _mum_! I don't _want_ a cat!"

"Why not? She's lovely. James, isn't she lovely?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say love."

"See, Harry. Your father and I both agree she would make a perfect familiar."

"Maybe for _you_! She's staring at me like I'm a field mouse she wants to rip apart like a rabid beast!"

"Now, Harry!"

" _Hello_!" Hermione greeted, doing her best to hide the cages by using the other shoppers' bodies. "I've got a bit of a surprise for the both of you."

Watching as the boys' smiles grew, she brought the two cages around and handed them off to their applicable owner. Her own smile grew as both boys froze in shock before reverently reaching for their new familiars and cradling their cages in their small arms. Two high-pitched voices sounded in unison as they cried their thanks, managing to somehow give her a one-armed hug on each side before scurrying off.

"You didn't have to do that you know."

Turning, Hermione shrugged. "I know, but I wanted to get them both something meaningful. Something special and a familiar is the most special thing a witch or wizard can have...well, besides their wand that is. I know I'll be there for them throughout the year - whenever they need me - but there's just something about these animals...they're family...they're someone to talk to without judgement, without them making you feel small or unloved." _Or unwanted..._

Lily smiled softly, "Do you have a familiar, Hermione?"

"I did, yes."

Feeling that there was something deeper to what her friend was saying, Lily smiled and placed a hand on Hermione's elbow. "Well, thank you, Hermione. I can't say I'm overly excited to have a bird in the house, but it was clear as day how happy you made Harry just now; and that's all we can ask for. Now, I say we track down Sirius and Reg and let's find something to eat."

Nodding her agreement, Hermione took a moment to let her eyes scan over the shop for a particular ginger color, a hand slowly reaching up to rub the tightness in her chest away. Slightly depressed at not finding what she had been hoping for, she quickly caught up to Lily as she exited the shop.

"James, why don't you and Remus track down that rabid brother of yours and meet us at the Three Broomsticks."

Giving her a small salute of acknowledgement, they pushed their way through the crowd - quickly disappearing. Hermione looked towards Lily with a frown, "They'll be slammed. I mean just look at this crowd."

Nodding in understanding, Lily tightened her hold on Harry's hand - guiding their group towards their intended destination. "Oh, quite slammed. However, it just so happens I planned ahead - as per usual - and booked us the back room. With our lot there was no way we would have fit in the usual seating area."

Five minutes of walking against the crowd had them entering the well-known pub and being promptly escorted to the back. Hermione and Lily helped the boys set aside their cages, promising them that the animals would be quite alright for the duration of the meal, and got them seated. Hermione resisted the urge to kick off her well-worn - tattered if one was to be accurate - shoes and rub the soreness out of her feet and instead immersed herself in conversation with Lily and the kids.

It was during a rather heated debate on the effectiveness of _Anteoculatia_ \- a charm Lily was quite proud of perfecting - when the remainder of their group boisterously entered the room.

"Uncle Siri you should have seen it! It was _beautiful_ \- all sleek edges, and _power_ , and don't even get me started on the _speed_. Father says they're all on backorder at the moment, but he promises to get me one at the next available opportunity. Oh, my mates are going to be _so_ jealous!"

Looking up, Hermione watched as the group of men entered: James being carried on Remus' back...and then, a man who appeared to be only a handful of years older than her, with hair as dark as Sirius' though neatly parted to the side, and large grey eyes that shone with both mirth and what appeared to be exasperation as he listened to the young man walking beside him. _Regulus_ , she thought as she shook his hand in hello, trying to keep the tremors in her hand as still as possible. Thoughts of her time with Harry and Ron, hunting down the locket that this very man had given his life to secure and destroy, clenching her mind and soul.

Her eyes then dropped to the boy who appeared to look nothing like his father, with the exception of his eye color. Instead he had short, dirty-blond curls atop his head and his frame was much stockier than that of his father's rather lithe one.

 _That must be Castor_ , she thought to herself as she joined Lily in standing to greet the newcomers. Smiling at James and Remus as they took their seats, she turned in time to see Sirius trailing behind whispering in a woman's ear.

She was striking to say the least. The type of beauty that was described in the muggle fairy tales her parents would read to her when she was a child. Her hair was practically the colour of the bloody sun and her curls cascaded over her shoulders in such a way it had Hermione subconsciously reaching up to pat down her own unruly locks. Lips plump and cheeks tinged slightly pink - from what Hermione could only assume were the gentle whispers from her companion. Large blue eyes sparkled in the dim lighting of the pub, her laughter like that of a bird greeting the morning or the tinkle of a bell. Truly the only thing Hermione had in common with her was that they stood near the same height.

Scoffing, Hermione tugged harder on her shirt sleeves, crinkling the hem of the cloth in her clenched fists. _I bet_ she _doesn't have any scars..._

Something sharp jabbing her in the side drew her from her musings with a soft gasp. She looked towards Lily, a frown pulling her own slightly-less-plump lips down at the corners. " _What?_ " she hissed.

Lily raised her brows in question, "You were growling and I think I heard you say something about a...fanciful fairy twat, was it?"

"I most certainly did not!" she whispered harshly, her eyes growing wide and flicking around the room to ensure no one else had supposedly heard her brief lapse of sanity.

"You most certainly did. Have you met Regulus' wife before? You and Marlene not get on or something?"

"Regulus' wi...wait, what? That's his wife?" Hermione asked quietly, a suspicious heat igniting in her cheeks.

Lily nodded. "You didn't know? Well then why…" realization hit Lily like a bag of stones, " _No!_ Are you _jealous_ , Hermione?" she squealed so high it came out in a broken whisper.

"I most certainly am _not_ jealous!" she whispered fiercely. "I barely know the man. Besides, you said yourself he's a bit of a womanizer. Why would it surprise me to see him hanging all over a beautiful woman?"

Green eyes stared at her quietly for a moment or two, before the redhead completely burst into belly shaking laughter. "Oh you sweet, sweet girl."

" _What?_ "

Sirius instantly looked up as his ears picked up the familiar voice. Grinning, he called out, "Hermione!" and immediately parted from Marlene and made his way around the table towards her. "I wasn't aware you were joining us today."

"Yeah, Neville and I were out shopping when we ran into this bunch," Hermione gestured towards Harry and the others with a flick of her wrist.

Nodding, he shoved his hands in his pockets. "How have you been? You have everything in order for the year?"

"I've been well, thanks; and, unfortunately, no I haven't. I've still got quite a bit to do before the students arrive. This one here has kept me busy." she teased, ruffling Neville's hair as he gave her a playful frown in return.

"Ah, well, my offer still stands. Just so you know." At her confused look, he cleared his throat. "You know, to help? When we were at Harry and Neville's party?"

Realization dawned on Hermione as she recalled their awkward interaction prior to her departure from the boys' party. "Ah, yes. Thank you. Again. I'll be sure to keep that in mind if I end up needing any help."

Nodding again, Sirius rocked back on his heels, at a loss for what else to say, before coming to his senses and moving to pull out Hermione's chair. She watched him quietly, blushing lightly as he swept his arm out in invitation. Not wanting to be rude, she nodded her head in thanks and took her seat - eyes widening as he pushed her in with ease.

Smiling inwardly, she tucked a stray curl behind her ear and did her level best to ignore the quiet chuckles coming from beside her and the all-too-satisfied smile sitting in front of her.


End file.
